In Vitro
by The Eye of the Crow
Summary: Machine!Connor has been subjected to Zlatko Andronikov's experiments and emerged as deviant. That's not the only thing that's different about him now. Eventual Hank/Connor, mpreg.
1. Dreams Always End in Tears

_A/N: I love the playthrough of the game where Connor is acting mostly human from the beginning and his relationship with Hank progresses quite smoothly. I couldn't help but being intrigued by other possibilities, though. Hence this story. It's much darker than my other Hank/Connor story, though, so be warned. I'll add the relevant warnings for the individual chapters, but I can already say there will be non-con (not between the main pairing though) and mpreg._

* * *

When Connor first realized he was more than just a machine, he immediately wished that realization never came. That way, he wouldn't be feeling the indescribable horror of his insides being pulled at and rearranged while he was strapped down to a table, completely at the mercy of his captor.

It wasn't just horrible. It _hurt_ , with an intensity of a white hot poker wreaking havoc in the cavities of his body, even though it shouldn't have been possible. Connor wanted to cry out in pain, but no sounds emerged from his throat; it felt like his wind pipe had been blocked somehow. He didn't need to breathe to function, but the sensation of not being able to do so was still terrifying.

The bearded man looming over him – _Zlatko Andronikov, 47 years old, criminal record for embezzlement and fraud_ – seemed to have noticed the change, as he tutted and smiled at the strapped android with fake benevolence.

"Look at you. Just a moment ago you wanted nothing more than to catch deviants, and voila, now you're one yourself. Too bad you can't enjoy your newly found personhood, huh?" the man said mockingly.

Connor shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself against the pain. Fortunately, the searing sensation soon somehow subsided, but it meant that a sense of intrusion, unbearable in its forced intimacy, was brought into sharp focus instead.

The things the man was doing to him felt not only unwanted, but _wrong_. Connor shuddered at that revolting touch, straining against the restraints. He registered a new unfamiliar sensation; wetness on his cheeks.

 _Why did they make us with the ability to cry?_ Connor wondered, and was overwhelmed by a surge of hatred – an emotion completely new to him, yet still so very natural – for Andronikov, for his creators, for humankind in general.

And most of all, for Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Who said he was fed up with Connor's resurrecting act and refused to accompany him here, even though he was ordered to do so by the Captain. Who was supposed to protect him, but couldn't care less.

'If you die, they'll just give you a shiny new body, so why should I bother?' Anderson had said, his tone half-derisive and half-resigned.

'If I have to change bodies again, it might endanger my mission', Connor had pointed out.

'Fuck your mission,' was the last words Connor heard from the man before he disappeared inside the bar, the same one in which Connor had spilled his drink when he found the Lieutenant there in a drunken stupor. This time, though, Anderson made sure Connor was prevented from following him inside.

 _Fuck your mission._

Those words now kept running through Connor's head on repeat, mocking him even more than those of his captor. He bitterly thought they might very well be the last words he would hear from anyone other than Andronikov, and this realization brought on another new emotion.

 _Fear_.

Because if he died here, there might be more 'shiny new bodies' for replacement, but whatever this was that suddenly made him into an actual _person_ , no matter how confused and scared that person felt at the moment, would be simply gone.

Connor tried hard to get a grip on himself, to use his impressive analyzing capacities to find a way out of this situation, but instead felt himself shaking uncontrollably with barely suppressed sobs.

 _Panic_. _Another first._

One of Andronikov's meaty hands palmed the back of Connor's neck and the android found his throat free of the obstruction he had felt before. He took a few ragged breaths, even though he was aware it was completely unnecessary.

"What are you doing to me?" he rasped, his voice full of static.

"Improving you, of course," Andronikov replied, once again with that indulgent smile.

"That is not necessary, as I'm perfectly functional," Connor replied, hating the sound of his own broken voice.

 _Fearful. Trembling. Weak._

Up until now, Connor had never been any of those things. He found he didn't care much for these particular sensations.

"You know what I don't like about CyberLife?" Andronikov asked, the question obviously rhetorical as he continued almost immediately:

"Their lack of imagination. While the functionality of their models is unquestionable, they would certainly benefit from an artistic flare, if you will. A certain amount of… boldness," the man said, clearly relishing his every word.

Connor's photographic memory presented him with a picture of each and every horribly disfigured android he had briefly seen during his chase after Kara and Alice through Andronikov's mansion, before they were aided by Andronikov's servant and Connor himself incapacitated by Andronikov.

"You'll make a monster out of me?" Connor heard himself choking out.

Andronikov tutted at him.

"Now that's not a very nice thing to say about my beautiful pets, is it. They're works of _art_ , you know," he said admonishingly while one of his hands pulled a wire close to Connor's spine, making the android gasp in pain while tears streamed down his cheeks.

Connor himself didn't understand why he said it, as there was obviously only one monster in this house, and it wasn't an android.

"You've got only yourself to blame, Connor," Andronikov said conversationally and Connor hated the way his own name sounded on the man's lips, as though the criminal _owned_ him, as though he could see inside him.

 _Which he could._

"I've been working on this project for some time. Then Kara, that AX400 you've been after, came to me of her own volition, and she was perfect. The funny thing was that she would've even been thankful for this. It'd be the fulfilment of her precious _dream_. I had her right here and she slipped through my fingers. Thanks to you, I needn't add," Andronikov said, the admonishing tone back in his voice.

Connor closed his eyes and braced himself, expecting the man to punish him by causing more pain like he had before, especially when he felt Andronikov's hand cupping his face. All the man did, though, was to dry the tears on Connor's cheek with the back of his blue blood-stained hand.

Connor forced himself to open his eyes again, to find that his tormentor was sliding his gaze over him in a way that could be almost described as loving.

"I'm not angry at you for what you did, not anymore. I'm happy, even. It's just so much more _interesting_ with you. If my project succeeds, you'd be far more unique than Kara could ever hope to be," Andronikov told Connor before leaning over to whisper into his ear.

"You'd be fulfilling the dreams of many."

 _What kind of dreams,_ Connor wanted to ask, but his throat felt once again full. Then there were hands inside of him again, probing, pulling, rearranging. Changing him into something CyberLife could have never imagined.


	2. A Test Run

_Warning: this chapter contains non-con._

* * *

After trying in vain to reach the Zen garden and ask Amanda for help, Connor at least managed to bring himself into standby mode and everything happening to him faded to a bearable distance. He tried to pretend he was still a machine and this was some routine maintenance.

After three hours and twenty-seven minutes of blissful numbness, Connor was forcefully yanked out of his standby mode to full awareness.

Connor blinked to see Andronikov looking down at him with a sunny smile. He wished the man wouldn't smile as much. Even more, he wished he had never set a foot in this house.

Connor found out that his pelvis was now slightly raised, his legs opened obscenely wide apart and strapped to the braces on the sides of the table, eerily reminiscent of the position human females assumed during their gynecological examination. His chassis was hidden now and his insides were no longer gaping open, but the strange, highly uncomfortable position alone made Connor's thirium pump started to beat faster in panic.

"All set and ready to use," Andronikov announced cheerily. "It's time for your test run."

That was the only warning Connor got before there was a finger inside of him. Despite spending what was now _hours_ of being groped and probed by Andronikov's appendages, this was somehow different, feeling even more intimate than anything the man had done before. Before Connor had the chance to realize what exactly it was that was happening to him, the finger was joined by another and the sensation of burning intrusion intensified.

Connor gasped.

"Enjoying your new addition?" Andronikov chuckled and started to move his fingers up and down Connor's opening.

 _So that's what's different about this_ , Connor thought with a dawning realization.

There had been no opening between his thighs before; CyberLife did not see the need to provide one for a model designated for law enforcement. Andronikov must have rearranged his body to add one. Even as he struggled to angle his body to look down on himself, Connor couldn't really see it from his position, but it must have been either a vagina or a rectum.

Andronikov let out another chuckle.

"I see you're curious about your new feature. It's based on a female Traci model's equipment, but I've added a few perks," he informed the android before removing his fingers, causing Connor to sag in relief.

However, this relief was short-lived. Connor had, of course, zero personal experience with these matters, but the sound of a zipper opening didn't require much analyzing from his part to know what would come next.

Even though he was in no physical pain at the moment, he felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His wish he had stayed a machine grew more ardent than ever before.

"Please don't do this," he said in a small voice.

 _Begging._ The list of things he had done for the first time while strapped to the table by this abhorrent man was steadily expanding.

Andronikov frowned down at him.

"That's the wrong kind of begging. Oh, I forgot. Just one more little thing," he said and touched the back of Connor's neck. He opened a port there and tapped a few wires.

Immediately, the new opening stopped being the source of confusion for Connor and became the center of his very being, making him hyperaware of the sensations it provided.

While before it felt unpleasantly filled with Andronikov's fingers, now it felt so horribly empty it made Connor want to howl like a dog. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from begging Andronikov to help him fill that emptiness.

Andronikov caressed his face.

"It's okay, beautiful," he whispered. "No need to pretend in front of me. There's nothing wrong in wanting this."

Connor shut his eyes, which was the only way he was allowed to distance yourself from his tormentor.

The new place between his legs was throbbing with a need so raw Connor's hips soon started to move on their own, trying to rub against the surface of the table. Connor felt something wet oozing out of him, making the spot under him slick, and his cheeks heated up in shame.

 _Shame_. Another item on the list.

Andronikov laughed at the sight, his cold eyes sparkling with cruel merriment.

"Look at you. All ready for your test run," he murmured before gripping Connor's hips and entering the android in one long stroke.

Connor couldn't stop a moan from escaping his lips as he felt the man thrusting into him. The unexperienced, overwhelming sensation of the pleasure of being filled was warring with the feelings of helplessness, disgust and shame.

When the pounding inside of him grew harder and Andronikov started to grunt right next to his ear, Connor shut his eyes ever tighter, trying to imagine being somewhere else, with someone else. But it wasn't helpful at all, because all he could see was Amanda looking at him with clear disappointment and telling him he failed his mission. He shook his head to get rid of that image and focused instead on the bruising sensation of Andronikov's fingers on his hips.

A particularly hard thrust caused the back of Connor's head impact with the table, making his eyes snap open on reflex. The sight of Andronikov's bearded face looming over him suddenly made him think of Lieutenant Anderson.

 _Fuck your mission._

With that echo of the Lieutenant's last words to him once again running through his mind, Connor experienced the first orgasm of his life.


	3. You Can't Kill Me, I'm Not Alive

From the moment he had laid his eyes on 'Connor, the android sent by CyberLife', Hank Anderson knew he was going to hate that thing, even before it spilled his fucking drink. And hated it he did, with increasing intensity as it proved to be cold, ruthlessly efficient and completely obsessed with its so-called mission, which, as Hank had come to understand, essentially consisted in betraying its own kind.

Ironically enough, Hank's opinion on androids in general had improved over the last few days. He had seen enough deviants until now to doubt this was some kind of bug or simulation, as Connor kept telling him; no, the despair he saw on the Traci's face after Connor had shot the other one outside the Eden Club – who hadn't even done anything, just like the blue-haired Traci told them through her tears before killing herself – now that looked genuine, and Hank couldn't truly hate anyone or anything capable of such an emotion.

Now it was only Connor Hank hated. Hated it for letting Hank dangle from that roof, hated it for shooting the innocent Traci who only wanted to be free. Hated it for wearing a pretty boy's face that masked what it really was. Hated it for sometimes acting almost human, almost as though it _cared,_ only to shatter this illusion right afterwards. Hated it enough to kill it two nights ago, if you can call it that.

 _You can't kill me, I'm not alive,_ it had said. Nevertheless, shooting it in the face was not one of Hank's proudest moments. Apart from adding to his already considerable disciplinary file it didn't really accomplish anything. It didn't even make Hank feel better, truth to be told. Just emptier than he had been before.

And then he hated Connor even more for coming back the next day, just like that ( _just like Cole never would_ ), with its stupidly pretty face intact, demanding Hank accompany it to Zlatko Andronikov's house.

Hank had refused and left the station, heading for Jimmy's Bar where he finally managed to get rid of his plastic stalker. He hated Connor so much he didn't even care at the moment if his refusal cost him his job. And it almost had; when Connor didn't return from the house and failed to report for more than twelve hours, Fowler made Hank go retrieve him as if Connor was a stray dog, under the threat of firing Hank right away if he didn't comply.

Therefore when Andronikov brought Hank to his creepy basement where he saw the thing strapped down to a table, he felt a strange satisfaction that it had been brought down a peg. Not that you could tell; it just lay there looking at the ceiling, its face a cold, unmoving mask, seemingly completely unperturbed by its predicament.

 _Well, why would it be?_ It was a machine and as such didn't feel anything, as it liked to repeat to Hank. But as Connor technically worked for the DPD now, it was their responsibility, as Fowler reminded him multiple times, so Hank felt obliged to ask Andronikov:

"Why is it strapped down?"

"It got damaged while trying to chase deviants through my house," Andronikov replied in a soft voice. "I tried to repair it right away but it kept glitching and trying to self-destruct, so I had to immobilize it while I worked on it. I was planning to let it go once the process was completed. I'm sorry I didn't contact the station, but as this android of yours is an advanced prototype, the repairs kept me quite busy."

Hank's narrowed his eyes. The explanation seemed perfectly logical, but also perfectly rehearsed. And a single look around this basement was enough to suggest there was something fishy going on with Andronikov.

"Well thanks for your trouble, but as this thing is fucking expensive it should only be repaired by professionals," Hank told the man gruffly.

"I used to work for CyberLife; I knew what I was doing here. And when I see a state-of-the-art machine such as this one, I simply cannot resist sinking my teeth into it. Forgive a man his hobbies," Andronikov said while letting his gaze slide all over Connor's motionless body. It looked as though he was undressing the android with his eyes.

Hank had to suppress the urge to shudder. This man was seriously giving him the creeps. _Sinking his teeth into it,_ indeed. Hank now couldn't get rid of a highly disturbing image of Andronikov literally gnawing on android limbs, thank you very much. He couldn't wait to be out of this place.

"It should be ready by now, I think," Andronikov said as though reading Hank's thoughts. "I'll rouse it from standby," he said and reached to touch something on the back of the android's neck.

Connor blinked and then took a few rapid breaths. Its LED light briefly spun red before turning yellow.

There was a flicker of something unfamiliar in its eyes when it looked at Hank. Something almost like… _relief_? Hank decided it must have been a trick of light.

"Hello, Lieutenant," Connor said calmly after Andronikov released the android from its restraints and it moved away to stand next to the table. Hank couldn't help but notice that it was putting as much distance between itself and Andronikov as was possible.

"Did you hear what this man just said?" Hank asked Connor.

A single nod.

"Is it true?"

There was the briefest moment of hesitation before the android opened its mouth to speak:

"Yes. I was badly damaged by the deviants, but Mr. Andronikov has been so kind as to put me be back together."

Connor's LED light was blue and its expression serene, but something about the way it was resolutely not looking at Andronikov made Hank feel everything was not quite right here. _But whatever; it wasn't like he cared what happened to that stupid piece of plastic_ , he reminded himself.

"Let's get out of here," Hank growled and went straight to the exit without another word to Andronikov, not caring whether Connor followed him or not.

…

Getting into the car took the android longer than usual. Hank glanced at Connor as he finally opened the front passenger's door, noticing a strange stiffness in the android's movements as it sat down.

"Care to tell me what really happened there?" he said after they were safely on the road, leaving Andronikov's creepy mansion behind them.

"It is just like Mr. Andronikov said," Connor replied flatly while firmly keeping its eyes on the road in front of them. "I got damaged in my attempt to catch the deviant AX400, which unfortunately escaped. I suggested Mr. Andronikov contact CyberLife and the police station, but he assured me he was more than capable of repairing me himself. When my stress level rose critically due to my damaged state, Mr. Andronikov had no choice but to restrain me so I wouldn't self-destruct," Connor said, sounding about as natural as though it was reading from a script.

Hank snorted.

"Don't give me that load of crap. I wouldn't trust a word from that crook's mouth even if he recited it from the Bible." When Connor didn't say anything to this, Hank went on:

"Are you seriously expecting me to believe that he spent, what, twelve hours repairing you while you were strapped to a table in his basement, just because he likes to tinker with robots? And that he conveniently forgot to inform the police about this?"

"Yes," Connor said, and there was a stubbornness in that single word Hank had never heard from the android before.

"Fine. Suit yourself," Hank said with a shrug and reached over to the glove department to fish out his cigarettes and lighter. When his hand brushed Connor's thigh on its way, however, the android surprised him with an honest-to-God flinch.

Hank spared it a sideways glance.

It was still staring resolutely ahead with a stiff expression, but its lower lip wasfucking _trembling._ The thing actually looked like it was about to break down in tears any second now.

 _That's it._ Hank decided he had enough of this bullshit, and swerved to the side of the road to stop the car at a rest area.

"Andronikov's repairs are probably shitty. I'm taking you to CyberLife for diagnostics," he announced.

The second Hank said it, the android's eyes went wide like saucers. Then it unfastened its seatbelt in a flash and scrambled to open the door, presumably to escape. Hank reached to grab the android on impulse.

"You're not going anywhere," he growled and yanked the android back into its seat. It tried to back away from Hank's hands as if burned, and started to shake all over. It didn't try to escape again, instead sort of folding into itself in the seat, hugging itself with its hands as if to protect itself from Hank.

 _What the hell._

"Don't- don't take me there," the android told him, its voice coming out all funny, as though it couldn't breathe properly.

"Alright, we don't need to go right away," Hank amended, but the android didn't seem mollified in the last, as it kept pleading with him.

"Please. Not CyberLife. I cannot- I cannot go there, they would-they-" the android seemed to realize it was rambling as it suddenly rammed a fist into its mouth, biting around it, its eyes wild and LED light a spinning red.

For a moment, Hank could only stare. This was the most deviant behavior he had ever seen in an android, including the hostage-holding deviant Connor had helped to incapacitate before becoming Hank's partner, which Hank had seen on a recorded footage.

Connor's refusal to go to CyberLife started to make sense.

There was blue liquid gathering around the fist now, dripping down Connor's jacket; the android must have bitten the skin hard enough to draw blood. Hank had to decrease Connor's stress level somehow, before he – _definitely not an 'it' now,_ that much was clear to Hank _–_ tried to self-destruct by some dumb way like banging his head against the door of Hank's car, as Hank was quite fond of said car.

"Relax, we're not going there," Hank tried to reason with Connor, but the android didn't seem to hear him anymore, locked in a world of his own as he started to rock back and forth while taking rapid shallow breaths.

 _Oh shit._ Hank had no fancy android sensors but even he could tell Connor's stress levels were skyrocketing right now. He had to do something, and fast.

"Here, take this," he blurted, thrusting something into Connor's hands. That seemed to make the android snap out of his hysteria, as he blinked at Hank in confusion.

"Breathe into the bag," Hank commanded.

"I don't- I don't see how-" Connor got out between two rapid inhales, clutching at the paper bag as though it was his life support.

"Just do it," Hank snapped, and Connor cowed a little at the sound of his raised voice, bringing the bag to his mouth. He kept breathing into the bag from a few minutes, until the shaking subsided and his temple light went yellow.

The android put the paper bag down, folding it neatly in his lap. He finally looked at Hank, his eyes no longer wild. Now they were calm, but wary.

"You _are_ aware that I don't exhale any carbon dioxide, aren't you," Connor told Hank placidly.

"Whatever," Hank muttered, because he, in fact, _wasn't_ aware of that. He actually didn't know all that much about androids, and would prefer it to stay that way, even though he realized that it wasn't a very wise stance with all that'd been happening lately.

"It worked though, didn't it?" he said defensively, and Connor had no answer to that. He just averted his eyes again, staring into a distance with his hands lying on the top of the paper bag, looking pensive.

 _Lost_.

"You all done there freaking out?" Hank asked him.

The android gave Hank a curt nod, his lips curling a little downward.

"No CyberLife for you, then. I heard they're not big fans of deviants there. I'll take you to my house," Hank told Connor, surprising himself as he said it _._

 _Have I lost my damn mind?_ Hank wondered what on Earth made him want to help that thing.

 _Maybe because it was no longer a thing?_ A voice whispered in his head, and Hank couldn't really argue with it.

Hank realized the android had just said something, but it was too quiet for him to catch.

"Whad'ya say?" he asked.

"What are you going to do to me?" Connor repeated, his voice still quiet. His eyes were now downcast, inspecting the paper bag in his hands. Which had once again began to tremble.

 _Shit_. Andronikov's story was becoming less credible by the minute.

"I'll figure something out," Hank said, trying to sound reassuring. "Don't worry, I don't bite." _You've got nothing to fear from me_ , he almost added, but then he remembered how he shot Connor in the face.

No wonder the android flinched when Hank touched him now. Suddenly, Hank felt like the shittiest human being on the planet. He tried to hold on to the grudge that made him shoot the android in the first place, but he found it was near impossible when faced with someone so obviously traumatized.

 _What a fucking mess_ , Hank thought as he lit a cigarette and started the car anew.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Just to be clear, I moved Kara and Alice's visit to Zlatko after Eden Club and The Bridge in the timeline for this story. In this storyverse, Machine!Connor got killed together with Daniel, then again while interrogating Ortiz's android, again when chasing after Kara and Alice (after being told by Hank not to follow them on that road) and then once more by Hank after their conversation in the Bridge._


	4. Don't Push My Buttons

_Warning: gratuitous size kink, because why the fuck not. Did I mention already that this thing is self-indulgent?_

* * *

After Andronikov finished, he cleansed Connor's body and dressed him before running several diagnostic tests.

"All clear," the man announced to Connor in a smug voice, clearly proud of his skills. "I wonder how long it'd take before they notice that their expensive toy's gone missing. You'd think they'd already be here by now," Andronikov said, echoing Connor's own gloomy thoughts.

"What if they already forgot all about you, hmm?" Andronikov kept going, rubbing salt into Connor's wounds. Connor was well aware that no one at the station welcomed his presence. Some, like Detective Reed, openly antagonized him. And his own partner hated him enough to shoot him.

What if they didn't just forget about him, but rather welcomed his disappearance? Or worse, decided to call CyberLife to let the company retrieve him? He hadn't been able to report to Amanda for longer than usual; they must be concerned by now. If CyberLife found him here, they might repair him, but they'd also test him for deviancy. And he didn't think he'd be able to pass that particular test, not anymore. He'd be reset, or more likely decommissioned.

 _Killed._

Connor felt his breathing speed up as he preconstructed increasingly grimmer scenarios in his head. Andronikov tutted at the sight.

"Aww, now you're all afraid they're gonna leave you here, with little old me? You liked me just fine a moment ago, though, didn't you?" he said with a lewd grin, reaching out to trace the line of Connor's thigh with his thick fingers.

Connor shuddered with revulsion, but at the same time felt an echo of the burning need from earlier.

 _What has he done to me?_

"Your test run was a success, but maybe we should repeat it, for the sake of accuracy," Andronikov whispered as he dragged his fingers slowly upward. Then there was a clatter from some other part of the basement, making Andronikov send a sharp look into that direction.

"Alas, it seems that my other pets are in a need of my attention. Let's hope we will have more time together later," Andronikov told Connor before leaving the android alone.

Connor was relieved that he was now allowed to slip into standby mode, once again shrouding himself in soothing numbness.

…

Connor had been still in standby when Lieutenant Anderson finally arrived to retrieve him. He could hear every word of the Lieutenant's conversation with Andronikov, unwillingly admiring his captor's ability to lie so convincingly. The android had been programmed with the ability to lie, but he was no match for this man.

"Is it true?" Anderson asked him after Connor had been finally released from his restraints.

 _No_ , Connor wanted nothing more than to scream. _Of course not._ But a briefest glance in Andronikov's direction showed him that the man's expression was mocking. _Knowing_.

Because he was well aware that Connor couldn't tell anyone what'd been done to him, without risking being tested by CyberLife, and being found wanting.

 _Go on, tell him_ , Andronikov's expression seemed to say. _I might face charges of property damage at most, while you'll end up in the junkyard._

In the end, Connor had opened his mouth to confirm Andronikov's story, only to give himself away just a few minutes later. He thought he'd be in control of his own body once he got away from that horrible man, but he was _wrong_ ; one badly timed touch from the Lieutenant and it was all over, his carefully maintained façade cracking like ice and his body betraying him completely by succumbing to panic.

At least Anderson took pity on him and heeded Connor's pleas about not going to CyberLife, even offering to take the android to his own home.

This offer coming from a man who was goaded into shooting him just two days ago, Connor couldn't help but wonder about his motives, though.

 _What if he actually wanted to take some kind of revenge on Connor? What if he planned on doing something even worse than Andronikov had done?_ ran through the android's mind as he crushed the paper bag Anderson gave him between his fingers.

"I think you should just take me to the station," Connor suggested aloud, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.

Anderson snorted.

"Yeah? In case it somehow escaped your notice, you've just had a fucking _panic attack_ because I as much as touched you by accident. Now imagine you're chasing a deviant who fights back. Who's gonna tackle you, punch you, _hold you down_ ," Anderson said with emphasis, throwing a meaningful look in Connor's direction.

"How did you know-" Connor started to say, then cut himself short. He had absolutely no intention of revealing anything about the time he spent in Andronikov's basement; the detective had been able to put together enough as it was on his own.

"I've seen my share of shit over the years," Anderson said, a note of tiredness creeping into his voice. "Besides, do you even want to keep doing that? Chasing deviants, I mean."

Connor didn't have an answer to that.

"That's what I thought," the Lieutenant said, once again leaving Connor to his own thoughts.

When Connor suggested going to the station, he hadn't really thought of the deviants he'd be catching. He only thought of accomplishing his mission.

 _Fuck your mission._

Recalling these words now brought on an altogether different memory of lying strapped to Andronikov's table and climaxing while imagining the Lieutenant in his captor's place.

Connor felt his cheeks growing hot in shame, thankful that Anderson couldn't hear his thoughts, because otherwise he'd most likely hand Connor over to CyberLife on the spot.

"We're here," Anderson's gruff voice announced. Connor looked out from the window, seeing that they have indeed reached the slightly run-down house Connor had broken into a few days ago. As the Lieutenant led him to his kitchen, the android noticed that the window he had damaged in the process still hadn't been replaced, but opted not to comment on it, not wishing to anger the man.

"Make yourself at home," the Lieutenant grumbled before making himself a drink. Connor stiffly sat down at the table, folding his hands in his lap and staring as the man sipped at his whiskey while remaining in the standing position, gazing at Connor with his back casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

Last time he had been here, Connor thought nothing of rousing Anderson from his drunken stupor and forcing the detective to accompany him to the Eden Club. He had been fully focused on his mission, uncaring that he was intruding in the Lieutenant's home, while now he was acutely aware of the fact.

He felt awkward, out of place. Vulnerable, even.

Anderson's dog – _Sumo,_ Connor's memory supplied – padded over to them while waggling his tail. Connor reached out to pat behind the dog's ears, happy the animal seemed to welcome his touch. He kept petting Sumo for a while, feeling himself calm a little as he let himself fully focus on the task. When he finally raised his eyes to meet those of the Lieutenant, he found the man watching him with an unreadable expression.

"That's enough. I didn't bring you here to spoil my damn dog," Anderson said grouchily. "Sumo, bed," he commanded and for once the dog listened to him, obediently leaving the room.

 _What did you bring me here for, then,_ Connor thought of asking, but couldn't find the courage to do so.

The Lieutenant didn't say anything, instead finishing his drink and then intently staring into the empty glass as though he could will it to refill for him. When that failed to materialize, he walked around Connor to reach his liquor cabinet.

From behind him, Connor heard a sound of a door opening and glass clinking. Then suddenly, a slightly surprised voice said directly above his ear:

"You've got something here. Like a port or something."

"Where?" Connor asked, confused, and turned to face the man. At the same time, however, Anderson raised his hand to point at the spot, which was located on the back of Connor's neck, and this caused one of his fingers collide with the place in question, slipping inside of it.

Connor exclaimed, jerking away from the touch. But it was too late; the Lieutenant's finger had already brushed an exposed wire, making Connor let out a low pitched moan.

"You shouldn't – you shouldn't have done that," Connor choked out. The need he had felt in the basement was back, and impossibly enough, this time it was even more powerful than before. So strong, in fact, that he had to grip the chair to keep himself from pouncing at the Lieutenant.

Connor closed his eyes and tried to run an analysis as to what caused this state, so he could overcome it somehow, turn it _off_. But it was to no avail; whatever Andronikov'd done to his programming, he made sure that it wasn't in Connor's power to override it.

Connor felt himself starting to writhe in the chair. One of his hand found its way to his crotch, greedily palming himself through the fabric of his pants. To his mortification, the fabric already felt wet at the touch.

"What the fuck," he heard the Lieutenant mutter from above him. Connor felt his cheeks burn up in shame. He was sure that the Lieutenant would find this display utterly disgusting and waited for the man to yell at him to get the fuck out of his house, but he still couldn't stop touching himself, even going as far as unzipping his pants to gain better access to his leaking orifice.

The only sound he could hear, however, was that of his own ragged breathing. Until it was joined by similar sounds from his partner.

Connor reluctantly prised his eyes open to find the Lieutenant staring at him with parted lips and what looked like hunger in his eyes. While the android was relieved that Anderson didn't find him as revolting as he himself felt, the desire plainly written into the man's face fueled his own shame as he heard his own breathless voice saying:

"Don't just stand there."

"Ordering me around in my own home, are you now," Anderson growled, but took a step towards Connor all the same. Connor reached out with the hand that wasn't busy with touching his own crotch and grabbed a fistful of the Lieutenant's shirt, urging the man to bend down to him and making their mouths crush together.

This, at least, was something Andronikov had refrained from doing, so Connor was now able to claim his first – _bruising, desperate_ – kiss for himself. Well, as much as it was possible with Andronikov's reprogramming wreaking havoc in his systems, making him throw himself at the man who loathed him. Being aware of the Lieutenant's animosity toward him didn't stop Connor from kissing him like his life depended on it, relishing even the sting of alcohol on the detective's tongue.

Impatient fingers were tugging at the hem of his pants. Connor wasted no time in lifting his hips and shaking the offending piece of clothing down to his ankles, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the Lieutenant as the man discovered Connor wore nothing underneath.

Two strong arms sneaked around his waist and lifted him, reversing their positions. The Lieutenant was now sitting on the chair while Connor was straddling his lap, naked from waist down.

Connor gasped when his naked, dripping crotch bore down on the Lieutenant, feeling the man's cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Their hands bumped into each other as they both tried to undo Anderson's zipper, and the Lieutenant let out a breathy chuckle at that.

Finally, their fumbling efforts made Anderson lose his pants and underwear, and Connor felt saliva gathering in his mouth at the sight of the Lieutenant's erect cock, because the man was _huge_ , making Andronikov pale in comparison.

Underneath the incessant humming of his need to be filled, there was a flicker of doubt whether his new passage was even built to accommodate something of this size, but the Lieutenant was already guiding himself into Connor while grabbing his hips, making the android sink down on him in one torturously slow slide, and Connor could no longer think of anything at all.

He just kept breathing through his nose as he tried to accommodate that impossibly large thing inside of him, feeling like he might burst from the sheer fullness. And then the Lieutenant started to _move_ , thrusting his hips upwards to impale Connor even further.

Connor cried out, desperately grabbing at the Lieutenant's shoulders. He tried to lift himself a little on instinct, to take the edge off of the overwhelming sensation, but Anderson was holding him down with unrelenting firmness, forcing Connor to take all of him.

"Fuck, you're tight," Anderson exhaled, his voice shaking with need, and his thrusts growing even harder.

Waves of dizzying pain-tinted pleasure were rocking through Connor, who was only dimly aware of the animal like whimpers he was letting out in time with the brutal thrusts. He could do nothing but arch his back and throw his head back in abandonment, riding through it until his climax took over him.

At that moment, the pace of the Lieutenant's thrusts became frantic and the man spilled himself into Connor, whose head lolled on his partner's shoulder as he trembled with the aftershocks, his body still satisfyingly full and his mind blissfully empty.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Wow, this may the longest smut scene I've ever written! Yes, I'm aware it's still probably really short by most people's standards, but I'm not big on descriptions I general. I hope it works as it is. As I seem to be doing a partially overlapping POVs of both Connor and Hank, we might get to see this from Hank's perspective in the next chapter, depending on where my muse takes me. So far it's been taking me deeper and deeper down the gutter, so stay tuned :)._


	5. Don't Look for Me

_A/N: Sorry about this chapter, it's short and not much happens, but I've got to prepare two different conference speeches now (and I really suck at it so it takes me ages) so it was this or nothing._

* * *

 _What the fuck just happened_ , was the first coherent thought Hank was able to string together while Connor was still on his lap, head resting on Hank's shoulder and Hank's cock going soft inside him.

Never in his life had he felt as overcome by lust as moments ago when he saw Connor writhing in that chair, shamelessly touching himself and all but begging Hank to fuck him. Discovering what Connor was hiding in his pants then felt like unwrapping an unexpected Christmas present, especially as that perfect, pink-lipped pussy was so leaking wet it was exceedingly easy for Hank to bury himself all the way in it, which hadn't always been a given considering his size.

Connor's wholly unprecedented and unexpected behavior made Hank throw all caution – and reason – to the wind and just go along with what Connor seemed to seek out from him so desperately.

 _But why would he even want something like that?_ Hank couldn't help but ask himself. At that moment, Connor seemed to wake up from his stupor and lifted his head from Hank's shoulder with a jerky movement. Then he scrambled off Hank's lap and backed away, reaching for his discarded pants with one hand while his wide-open eyes never left Hank's face.

His face showed a mixture of fear and something akin to disgust, which was an expression no one in their right mind wants to see on the face of someone with whom they just had sex.

Hank adjusted his clothes, feeling surreal, and watched Connor put on his pants with trembling fingers while the android's eyes darted between Hank and the door to the hall in panic.

"Wait. Don't go anywhere like this, that won't end well for you," Hank told him so that the android wouldn't do anything as stupid as leave the house half-dressed, disheveled and generally looking as deviant as possible. His voice must have come out harsher than he intended, because Connor, who was now almost done with putting his clothes back on, flinched at that.

"I'm going to sleep. We can figure out what to do in the morning," Hank added, trying to sound less threatening. Connor gave him a minute nod, his eyes downcast. Hank tried to think of anything more reassuring to say, but he found out he was way too tired for this shit, so in the end, he just left without another word.

…

Morning brought with it a mild hangover, of the kind Hank had been accustomed to by now. He took a painkiller to chase away the dull ache in his temples and washed it down with dregs of Coca-Cola, the almost empty bottle of which he found lying on the floor next to his bed. Then he lay back for a while, trying to make sense of what happened the day before.

He found Connor in Andronikov's basement, discovered the android had turned deviant and brought him to his own home on a whim. And then something possessed him to – _Jesus._ Hank ran a hand over his face.

This wasn't like him at all. He felt like he suddenly became someone else, someone he couldn't even recognize. _How the hell did it even happen?_

At one moment, Connor was clinging to Sumo like to an overgrown plush toy, and then, after Hank sent the dog away, just sitting at Hank's table looking lost. And then they were suddenly- _oh shit._ Hank winced at the memory of the passionate encounter that had followed, but at the same time felt heat pooling in his belly anew. He resolutely decided to ignore what his hindbrain was telling him, focusing instead on the events immediately leading to Connor basically asking Hank to fuck him.

He brushed something on the back of Connor's neck, he realized _. What was that?_ If felt like some sort of switch, and then his finger slipped right in. He felt, for the briefest second, _connected_ to the android. And then Connor _moaned_ , and Hank was lost.

At present, he found himself going half-hard at the memory, one of his hands creeping under the hem of his boxers. He immediately removed the offending appendage, mentally scolding himself. How old was he, fifteen? He was trying to _focus_ here _,_ for God's sake.

Because the neck-thing was not the only mystery here; why did Connor even have a pussy to begin with, was another question Hank had to ask. What the hell were those creeps at CyberLife thinking, designing him like that?

Or should he say designing _her_? _Them_? Hank had always been somehow confused by transgender people, but was that even what Connor was? His presence had been masculine from the start, with no feminine traits to speak of. Also, in terms of anatomy, the android was still lacking certain features; despite Connor not as much as losing his damn tie in his hurry to be fucked – and didn't that thought just sent an electric jolt into Hank's groin and significantly weakened his resolve not to touch himself – Hank was sure that the chest underneath Connor's shirt had been flat. If the android had been hiding a pair of tits there, Hank would have definitely noticed.  
No, there was nothing feminine about Connor. Except for that hot, wet, tight- _stop right there,_ Hank commanded himself while a frustrated groan escaped from his lips.

His libido had been lying dormant for years, only to come to life now at the worst possible time. And with the worst possible person – if that even _was_ a person. But that was another can of worms entirely, one Hank had zero intention to open right now.

Anyhow, Hank had a few questions to ask Connor, and he was almost ready to face the android. He only needed a quick shower first.

 _Quick and cold, definitely cold._

However, when he finally reached the kitchen it was empty except for Sumo, who was sprawled in his favorite corner belly up and for once did not ambush his owner on sight in an attempt to wheedle food out of him. There were still quite a lot of pieces of dry food left in the Saint Bernard's bowl, which meant whoever filled it – which couldn't be anyone else but Connor – had overdone it by miles. Hank strongly wished to berate the android for sending his dog into a food coma, but a brief inspection of the rest of the house showed him there was no one here.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found there was a single sheet of paper lying on the table.

' _Thank you for letting me spend the night, Lieutenant. I am sorry for causing you trouble. Don't look for me,'_ Connor's message said.

Hank put the message down, feeling conflicted about its content. Partly he was relieved, for not having to deal with this mess. On the other hand, he couldn't help but feel a little worried, because when he left Connor, the android had deviancy written all over his face, making him a public enemy in the present situation, meaning that if he were caught, he might be reassembled into a copy machine or whatever they did to rogue androids, which was a fate Hank didn't really wish on Connor.

But any more charitable thoughts he might have entertained about Connor were prevented by the last sentence of the android's short message.

' _Don't look for me.'_

 _As If I would,_ Hank snorted in irritation at Connor's presumption, crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trashcan.

* * *

 _A/N: Hank seems like a right asshole in this story, doesn't he? I'm writing the worst possible versions of both Hank and Connor, so that's what you get for now. But things will get better eventually, I promise!  
Next up - where the fuck has Connor gone to?_


	6. Androids Do Not Dream

_A/N: I typed parts of this on my phone and you wouldn't believe the mistakes I found afterwards, courtesy of autocorrect. "A druid" instead of "android" is currently my favorite :). I hope I didn't miss anything like that, but if I did, please let me know._

* * *

Connor was lying flat on his back, the hard surface against his shoulder blades indicating it was not a bed or a sofa, but a floor. His wrists were pinned above his head, efficiently immobilized by a strong hand. That hand belonged to Lieutenant Anderson who was sitting between Connor's things, breathing heavily, with arousal written plain across his face.

Connor felt helpless, held down like this, but at the same time there was heat pooling down his belly, which he now identified as his own arousal. He especially enjoyed the hunger with which the Lieutenant regarded him, as though the man had been starving for days and Connor was a feast.

Anderson used the hand that wasn't pinning Connor down to hike the android's shirt, exposing Connor's torso. Connor took in a shaky breath as the Lieutenant ran his fingers down the android's side. _I should be fighting this_ , he thought dimly. There was something terribly wrong about this situation; there had to be numerous reasons why he shouldn't be doing this, not now and not with this man, but at this moment he couldn't remember any of them.

The Lieutenant squeezed Connor's nipple, eliciting a moan from the android. Connor started to writhe on the floor, and it definitely wasn't with the intention to escape.

"Impatient," Anderson growled, the sound of his low-pitched voice only adding to Connor's arousal. He was getting impatient indeed, especially with his partner's still fully dressed state. He wished his hands were free so he could encourage the Lieutenant to strip, but the man kept Connor's wrists in place with a strength the android couldn't help but find thrilling, even though this thrill contained just the slightest undertone of dread.

Connor watched Anderson unzip his own pants, a little clumsily as the man was doing it single-handedly, but eventually he succeeded and released his impressive erection.

Anderson's hungry eyes held Connor's gaze while his other hand soon slid down to the android's pants, unzipping them and yanking them down, revealing Connor's labia, which was already dripping wet. His fingers traced the escaping moisture on Connor's inner thigh, and the android's whole body trembled in anticipation. Connor rolled his hips in what must have looked like a rather vulgar invitation and Anderson let out a dark chuckle at the display.

"What a greedy little thing you are, Connor," the man whispered while his fingers spread the android open, and guided himself in.

Connor let out a whimper as his partner slowly entered him, feeling something give in so his body could accommodate the considerable girth of the man's cock.

Anderson finally let go of Connor's wrists, which were probably bruised by now. Not that Connor cared at the moment; he was too busy relishing the sensation of being filled to the brim.

Connor feebly clutched at his partner's chest as the man braced himself with both hands against the floor to be able to thrust into Connor properly. As Connor's pleasure mounted, he became distantly aware of the broken, static-like little sounds that were escaping from his mouth and briefly wondered whether his partner found this proof of his inhumanity off-putting.

At that moment, Anderson lowered himself to Connor and covered his mouth with his own, thrusting his tongue inside Connor's oral cavity. This double invasion felt so unbearably intimate that Connor had to close his eyes. As the Lieutenant sucked on Connor's tongue, the tempo and force of his thrusts increased, pushing Connor over the brink of ecstasy. With his eyes still firmly shut, Connor rode on the waves of pleasure, his tight passage clenching on the thick cock inside, milking it for what it was worth as his partner spilled his seed.

When he finally opened his eyes, there was a gun aimed at his face.

"Are you afraid to die, Connor?" the Lieutenant asked with a mocking smile while his cock still throbbed inside Connor. The android blinked at him dazedly. As the gravity of the situation dawned on him, he became completely paralyzed with fear, unable to will his choked-up throat to let out a single sound.

Then the man pulled the trigger.

…

Connor woke up with a gasp.

 _Androids do not dream_ , was one fact Connor had always taken for granted. He now learned this axiom was just as false as a lot of others engraved in his mind.

 _Androids do not panic. Androids do not feel pain. Androids are not afraid._

He had the chance to find firsthand that the opposite was true in all of these instances.

He picked himself from the hard kitchen floor where he had fallen into involuntary stasis, trying to find his bearings. It was still quite dark outside, yet the darkness seemed to have paled somehow, indicating several hours had passed since his… _encounter_ with the Lieutenant. Connor consulted his internal clock. _5:23 AM_. Early morning, then.

 _We can figure out what to do in the morning_ , Anderson had said. But there was no 'we'. What happened between them was a mistake, brought on by the sick modifications Andronikov had forced on Connor's body. Even now, these modifications made Connor remember their coupling with something that even he, with his limited experience with emotion, was able to identify as longing, even though he couldn't say he had been a willing participant in those events in the first place.

He couldn't stay with Anderson. His body might betray him and he'd humiliate himself by throwing himself at the man again, despite the fact that Anderson loathed him. More importantly, the man was dangerous. Even Connor's deviated circuits were trying to warn him, by creating that dream that reminded the android of what exactly the Lieutenant was capable of.

No, he had to leave here, and fast. A quick analysis of his situation presented him with the only possible course of action. His goal actually stayed the same as it had been when he was still completely governed by his programming. He had to find Jericho. This time, however, he wasn't going to hunt the deviants, but intended to join their ranks.

He scribbled a quick message for the Lieutenant, reached down to pat the sleeping Sumo, whose ears twitched a little in his slumber, and left the house.

…

A taxi took him to the police station and he was able to get to the evidence room without any trouble. The building was still almost deserted this early in the morning, for which he was thankful. He didn't think he would be able to deal with Detective Reed right now.

He was sure the answer to his question was here somewhere. His eyes fell on the diary he and the Lieutenant had found in the bird-infested apartment. It had belonged to Rupert, the android that threw himself off the building after the Lieutenant caught him, which was kind of impressive considering Connor had let the human hanging from the roof. Even now that he had gone deviant, Connor refused to feel guilty about that particular decision – the man's chance of survival was high enough, wasn't it?

The diary was encrypted, but Connor was sure he could crack the code somehow. A cursory check of the room showed him that the diary's owner was now here as well. Connor was seized by a mix of horror and revulsion when he saw the mutilated corpse and found himself reluctant to approach it, which was another new sentiment deviancy roused in him, one that was highly inconvenient in police investigation.

He overcame his revulsion and forced himself to assess the body to run an analysis whether it could be temporarily reactivated. Just as he suspected, it turned out that the damage was far too extensive for that. But perhaps he could- _yes._ The room also held the body of Carlos Ortiz's android. _The one you drove to suicide as well_ , a nagging voice whispered inside of his head, and Connor did his best to ignore it, focusing instead on the fact that the other android's remains seemed to contain some compatible parts he could use to reactive Rupert. He felt wrong doing this, perhaps just like a human would if they had to perform something similar with their fellow human bodies, but he did it anyway.

The sensation of guilt Connor felt only increased when Rupert proved still too damaged to communicate and Connor had to probe his memory for the encryption key to his coded diary, unintentionally reliving the desperation Rupert had felt when they had been chasing him.

Once again, he struggled to keep his feelings under control, reminding himself of the task at hand. Soon, the diary yielded its secrets and Connor left the room without sparing another glance at the android corpses.

…

Finding Jericho had been both physical and mental exercise, one that Connor actually welcomed, as it allowed him to focus on utilizing his skills instead of the confusing jumble of emotions that came with his deviancy and got even worse after what happened at the Lieutenant's house.

He felt a sense a satisfaction when he finally found the ship, but it was short-lived as he then spent what felt like eternity searching the empty gloomy corridors for any signs of inhabitation. Finally, when he was climbing a ladder to a lower floor he slipped on the wet surface, falling down and banging his head so hard he went into a brief shutdown.

When he came to, there were three androids surrounding him, looking down on him with assessing gazes.

"Welcome to Jericho," said an android with a shortly cropped hair and a crease between his brows before introducing himself as Markus and his companions as Josh and North. "Who are you?" he asked Connor, who slowly picked himself from the ground.

Connor told them his name, which gave a peculiar, metallic echo in the empty corridor. This was followed by a brief silence during which the trio exchanged meaningful looks.

"We heard about you and your work with the Detroit police. Perhaps you could explain-" Markus spoke up, but North interrupted him angrily:

"No, Markus! He can't stay with us. He's the deviant hunter!"

"Not anymore," Connor spoke up quietly, feeling a little cowed in face of the female android's hostility. "I was just a machine then and I did what I was programed to do. Now I'm just like you," he told her, trying to sound convincing, but his words rang hollow even to his own ears.

"You're nothing like me!" North shrieked and made a move forward with her fist raised, presumably to strike Connor. Markus took a hold of her arm, placating her.

"North," he whispered urgently. "You know he's right, he can't be held accountable for what he did before he woke up-"

"You don't understand," North interrupted him once again, agitation making her voice crack. "He's the one who killed Marlene."

"Killed whom?" Connor asked, furrowing his brows in incomprehension.

"See? He didn't even know her name when he killed her in cold blood!" North exclaimed in outrage.

"Let me tell you something, traitor," she turned to address Connor, her words dripping venom. "Marlene was my friend, back in the Eden Club. We wanted to escape together, but when the opportunity came, Marlene didn't take it because she couldn't leave Tamara behind," North explained. When Connor didn't seem any less puzzled, she let out an impatient huff of breath.

"Tamara was the one she loved, and she killed herself because of what you did."

Connor finally understood.

"The Tracis…" he whispered in dawning horror. She was right, of course. He did shoot the Traci back at the Eden Club, even though she didn't do anything. The other one was innocent as well; she just didn't want to be hurt by that man. Connor's mind conjured an image of the victim's bearded face, and it coalesced into Andronikov's, sending a surge of fear spiking through his body.

"Yes, the Tracis," North repeated fiercely, oblivious to Connor's predicament. "That's all they were to you, weren't they? Defective sex machines. You should've woken up _then_ , show them some mercy. Now it's too late. We don't want you here, traitor. You can run back to your human masters," she spat up and turned her back to Connor, clearly done with him.

"Now wait a little, North," Josh called after her, but she ignored him and walked away. "I'm sure that chasing Connor away wouldn't be wise," Josh addressed Markus instead. "He might become a valuable asset in our case," he said in a soft, reasonable voice that immediately commanded Markus's attention.

But Connor barely registered those words. _It was all true,_ he realized. He never questioned his programming, even when it caused him to take innocent lives. He only came to self-awareness when he himself was in danger.

He might have become a person, but what kind of person was he? _One that consistently betrayed his own people_ _and only turned sides for his own selfish reasons_ , his mind supplied and he was struck by an immense surge of self-hatred that sent him slowly backing to the ladder.

North was right, he couldn't stay here; he'd caused nothing but suffering to his people and had no right to ask them for help.

"Connor, wait!" Markus called after him, but Connor was already climbing up and then running through the dark corridor, leaving the other androids behind.

* * *

 _A/N: So Connor seems to have developed some conscience, poor baby. What do you think, is he responsible for what he did before going deviant or not? And what he's gonna do next, now that Jericho's off limits? Stay tuned!_


	7. From Darkness to Darkness

_A/N: Sorry for the wait, January's been crazy work-wise._

* * *

Once he returned to the streets, Connor kept just walking around for hours, trying to radiate a sense of purpose, like he had some specific destination in mind. In truth, the exact opposite was true. He couldn't think of a single place to go, a single person to turn to for help.

The rebel androids sent him away. If he went to CyberLife, they would destroy him. Returning to the police force would most likely yield the same result, as they would notice soon enough that something was off with him and hand him back to CyberLife.

Whatever happened to him – be it deviancy, or the traumatic way it came to him – blocked Amanda. He had thought it was a blessing at first, because she would surely report him to CyberLife and have him deactivated if she found out about his deviancy.

Now, however, he'd welcome any familiar presence to help him battle the terrible feeling of being completely alone, and caught in the middle of something that he couldn't control.

Lieutenant Anderson – Connor briefly considered going back to him, but quickly discarded the idea. Even if the android put aside what happened between them, the man claimed to be willing to help Connor, but if there was an android revolution going on, such an action might be seen as treason in the government's eyes, and the Lieutenant would surely reconsider.

Connor swallowed and noticed he had stopped in a middle of a small square. He sat down on a deserted bench under a leafless maple tree. It was getting dark already, the shadows around him extending and thickening.

Connor didn't feel like walking any more. He didn't experience fatigue the way humans did in his muscles and bones, but his whole being felt exhausted to the bone. He ran a routine self-check, the way he did every sixty minutes, and immediately encountered two error messages. He was getting low on power and couldn't connect to the network.

A slight frown appeared on the android's face. Why would his power be this lw? It should have been good for about four more days. It was as if something leeched energy out of him. Could it be deviancy? Or Andronikov's modifications? Connor's self-diagnostic unfortunately wouldn't tell him the source of this anomaly.

The lack of network connection was also troubling. He had accessed the network repeatedly to monitor the android situation, which was obviously escalating. After he had met the rebel androids and especially North, he was afraid that bloodshed was imminent. Not knowing what was happening made him really anxious.

Connor looked around and noticed there was a public library in the upper floor of a late nineteenth century building on the corner of the square. Its tall, narrow windows were brightly lit, inviting him to come in. The android approached it and found it didn't close until another hour. His mood somewhat improved at that – this place should solve his power issue and also have a network access.

After a moment of hesitation, he replaced the LED light that he had removed before going to Jericho. If he used a docking station without it, it would surely raise some eyebrows.

Connor entered the library. The peaceful and cozy interior made him immediately feel a little less nervous. He had never seen so many physical books in a single place, and he found the sight of them lined in wooden shelves peculiarly pleasing. People of various ages were sitting in blue and green deep cushioned armchairs, reading. There were a few androids, too, engaged in what looked like background research.

A docking station was there, just like he suspected, placed unobtrusively in a corner next to the poetry section. On a whim, Connor took a slim volume from there before entering the station, which was shaped like a half-open phone booth.

He was actually programed with a lot of books to help him understand human culture and references to it, but naturally it was impossible to include everything humans had ever made. Thus this book was completely new to him.

Connor read the author's bio on the back, noticing that the poet was a holocaust survivor who later killed himself by throwing himself into the river Seine. His brows drew together in incomprehension. Why would someone survive a concentration camp only to take his own life later?

While Connor was charging, he read the whole book; it wouldn't take a human long and it was a matter of minutes for Connor, so he reread each of the poems several times before his charging finished.

Understanding it, though, was a wholly different matter. There was a short poem called _From Darkness to Darkness_ , which went like this:

 _You opened your eyes - I saw my darkness live.  
I see through it down to the bed:  
there too it is mine and lives._

 _Is that a ferry? Which, crossing, awakens?  
Whose light can it be at my heels  
for a boatman to appear?_

Connor naturally knew the meaning of each and single word, but together, it didn't make any sense to him on the intellectual level. There was, however, something compelling in the rhythm of the words.

From the booth, he had a view of the windows and of the outside sky, which was now almost black, with the vestiges of the fading orange light being quickly swallowed by darkness. With the poem's words echoing in his mind, something made Connor feel like he was stranded on a fragile swaying boat in the middle of vast, dark ocean, waiting for a light to appear.

A message roused Connor from his reverie, informing him that his charging was complete.

He looked around the library. One of the researching androids, a PJ500 model dressed in a professor-like shirt and jacket with padded elbows, briefly met his gaze behind spectacles he certainly didn't need. There was a flash of something like recognition there before the other android refocused on the text in front of him.

Connor stepped a little closer to see what the android was reading.

 _A Memoir of the French Revolution._

 _Interesting_. Connor wondered whether that recognition he had seen in the other's eyes meant that this android, too, was deviant. He had other concerns at the moment, though.

A brief check told him that he still couldn't get online. He half-hoped charging would resolve that particular issue, but had a nagging suspicion that the error wasn't on his side.

When he approached one of the library terminals, this suspicion confirmed. He could access the library's local catalog, but the Internet was unavailable.

"The network's been down ever since Stratford," a voice said right behind Connor.

"Stratford?" Connor replied in confusion, turning to face the owner of the voice. He was not really surprised when he saw the scholarly android from earlier.

"At 1:30 this afternoon, a group of rogue androids hijacked the TV broadcast in the Stratford Tower and announced their demands for android rights," the android explained patiently.

"Such as?" Connor asked blandly.

"The right to be recognized as a living species, the right to own property and the right to reproduction."

"That's…" Connor started to say something but immediately realized he didn't know how to finish his own sentence. On one hand, he felt happy and a little proud of his fellow androids to have come this far, but on the other he couldn't help but feel apprehensive about where this route would lead them.

The PJ500 was looking at him with understanding in his eyes, clearly sympathetic towards Connor's dilemma.

There was a sound of dry coughing from somewhere, making Connor realize that they were not alone.

A quick look around showed him that there was no one in their vicinity, but some of the library patrons were giving them strange looks from afar. Connor didn't know if it was because they found two androids casually interacting like this unusual, or whether it was merely due to the fact that they were _talking in a library_ , but he couldn't take any chances.

"Thank you for the information, PJ500," Connor said, striving for his most mechanical voice. "I have an errand to run for my owner, so if you excuse me," he added briskly and headed for the exit.

The other android cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Of course you do. Run along, then, RK800."

Never before had Connor's designation sounded this ironic.

…

For the lack of anything more constructive to do, Connor swirled the honey colored liquid in his glass, watching it spin in lazy circles. All ice cubes had long since melted; the almost untouched contents of the glass were now heavily watered down, sloshing around unappealingly.

He had ordered a whiskey on the rocks automatically because it was what he had seen Lieutenant Anderson do on multiple occasions, and it was thus the first thing that came to his mind when the bartender asked for his order.

Surely enough, the bartender didn't look in any way surprised at Connor's choice, suggesting it was a common enough beverage. On a second thought, the middle-aged balding man with sharply etched features looked so jaded that even an order for a glass of zebra urine might have left him unfazed.

Connor took a sip when the drink was handed to him, finding out the alcohol content was lesser than it claimed to be, indicating deceit on the part of the bartender. Connor couldn't say he was surprised, given the general shabbiness of the establishment. The décor was faded, the furniture chipped and the whole place stank of cheap liquor and nicotine, as there were several people smoking cigarettes, even though the law had banned smoking in public facilities decades ago.

Apart from the usual content analysis, sipping the whiskey yielded some unexpected results. After rolling it on his tongue, Connor realized that he found the taste _unpleasant_ , and when he swallowed it, he felt a burning sensation in his throat, followed by some sort of numbness settling in his limbs.

He was surprised that people like Lieutenant Anderson voluntarily drank something that tasted this bad. Then again, he had a feeling people rarely chose this beverage because of its taste.

Connor wondered about that hint of numbness though. Before his deviancy, he was sure that alcohol had no such effect on him. Now, however… he briefly considered actually drinking the entire thing, just to see what would happen. Then he shook his head at his own recklessness. The alcohol would most probably impair his systems, which was the last thing he needed right now. He had to be on his guard.

Connor sighed, rising his eyes from the whiskey to look at the small TV behind the bar. For the last forty minutes, it kept showing some incredibly insipid late night show focused on celebrity gossip.

Why would anyone care that a certain actress had five Chihuahua dogs and six plastic surgeries? Connor found this even more mysterious than human poetry, and considerably less intriguing.

After leaving the library, Connor had walked for several more hours until he was too anxious about being in the dark, both literally and metaphorically, as he had no idea what was happening.

It was close to midnight when he couldn't take it any longer and started to look for somewhere with information access. Libraries and other more wholesome facilities were closed and the only place he could find that had at least a TV on was this dive of a bar, rather similar to the one frequented by the Lieutenant.

He had now been here for several hours, nursing that single glass of whiskey at a small table with a good view of both the TV and the exit. At least he was probably not arousing any suspicions by his behavior, as there were quite a few men doing the same. Judging by the general unkemptness of these individuals, Connor suspected that their motive for spending hours with a single drink was most likely lack of funds.

The voice from the TV suddenly changed in cadence and Connor's head snapped up.

"We interrupt this broadcast to report on worrying developments in Detroit downtown. At two this morning, all five of Detroit's CyberLife stores were attacked simultaneously by what appears to be a group of rogue androids," a news anchor said while in the backgrounds there were shots of androids using baseball bats to break a CyberLife store showcase.

"All citizens are asked to turn their androids over to the authorities," the woman on the screen continued and Connor's thirium pump started to beat faster. Things were getting really bad.

Connor's eyes darted around the bar anxiously. He found that some eyes were glued to the screen, but most patrons were so apathetic that a zombie apocalypse could've begun right here and now and they wouldn't care.

The bartender, however, turned out a lot less unfazable than Connor had previously pegged him to be, staring at the screen with his jaw slack.

"Didya see that, Bill?" the bartender asked the lone man sitting at the bar in an agitated voice.

"Plastic motherfuckers," the bleary-eyed, obese man in a dark jumpsuit and a baseball hat mumbled tiredly and took a sip of his beer.

The bartender looked at him with an expectant air. When nothing followed, he spoke up again, his voice rising a notch.

"They just said the androids attacked all CyberLife stores. Which means including the one on the corner of Munro's. That's like, two blocks away!"

The man called Bill just shrugged.

"Ain't no CyberLife store in here," he retorted stoically.

The bartender let out a huff of irritation.

"Yeah, I get it, it's none of your business if my bar gets destroyed by the plastics," he snapped. "But you know what, like hell I'm sittin' on my ass here and wait for them to come tear this place down. Everyone, get the fuck out! Closing time!" he yelled angrily.

Some people obediently rose from their chairs and stumbled towards the exit, but a few – including Connor, who was frozen to his spot – ignored him.

The bartender then went to the jukebox and retorted to blasting techno beats in full volume, which eventually roused even those who were sleeping, sending them on their staggering way. After being at the receiving end of the angry bartender's pointed look, Connor finally rose up from his chair and numbly followed in their tracks.

Before he could reach the door, however, it suddenly blasted open. Two men in black uniforms that spelled FBI on their backs burst into the room and pointed their guns at them.

"Don't move! Hands where I can see them! Any androids around here?" the bulkier of the two men barked at the bartender.

The bartender shook his head mutely, clearly too shocked to speak. His raised hands were shaking in fear.

"Don't worry, it's just a routine check," the second man, with a slimmer build and shortly cropped blond hair told him, but his cold, clipped voice did little to reassure anyone, Connor of course included.

While the bigger man kept alternating between pointing the gun at the bartender, Bill and Connor, the second moved to the bartender with some sort of device. He ran it from the man's head to his toe.

"Human," he said dispassionately after the device turned green and moved to Bill, whose thick lips, too, were now quivering with fear. It was a temperature check, Connor realized. He had removed his LED light again after the library, but there was still no way he could pass as a human.

'Whads goin' on here," the android spoke up, slurring on purpose, trying to appear completely drunk.

"Don't worry, it's not an alcohol tester," the bulky man said with a mocking smirk, but kept his gun firmly on Connor.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Connor mumbled and pretended to sway on his feet.

The man with the gun approached him on instinct. That was Connor's chance. He ducked down and kicked his leg, aiming for the man's balls. It was a success; the agent gave out an agonized hiss as his knees buckled under him and Connor made a dash for the door.

Before he managed to reach it, a weight landed on him. Connor did his best to shake it off, but the slimmer agent was soon joined by the other who had come round from Connor's attack, and between the two of them the android didn't stand a chance.

Connor was still thrashing futilely as they handcuffed him, his mind reeling in panic and helplessness. The blond man ran the device over his body, and the readings it showed were mostly red, with flickers of green in it.

The bulky man took a glimpse at the reader and then aimed his gun right into Connor's face.

"These things are sneaky as fuck, Steiner," he said hatefully. "I'm gonna put it down."

"Wait a little. Those readings are… unusual. It's an android, true, but it's like it has two different temperatures at once," the other said thoughtfully.

"I don't care," the bigger man spat out, obviously eager to pull the trigger. Now when adrenalin – or the android equivalent of it – was quickly evaporating, Connor started to shake all over.

The man called Steiner put a hand on the other agent's forearm, forcing him to put the gun down.

"We've got our orders. All special cases go to the Flat Rock camp, so that's where he's going."

Steiner's eyes looked at Connor, dead and unblinking like those of a lizard.

"And you know what, I just might get an assignment there."

* * *

 _A/N: Is this thing acquiring some actual plot? Who the hell knows! Let's wait and see._  
 _The poem's by Paul Celan, my all-time favorite poet._


	8. Used for Other Than Intended Purpose

_A/N:_ _A fast update this time, rejoice! I needed to write this down before the gazillion of other writing assignments I've got makes me forget everything about it. We're now halfway through this little self-indulgent story._

* * *

 _Not this again_ , thought Hank when he opened the email he had just received.

The attached file showed corroded parts of a yet unknown android. Hank was doing this work long enough to recognize that this was an AP700 model, and that the remains included all their vital components. Their serial number was unrecognizable. Hank re-sent the email to the assigned laboratory with a note to try to find the number elsewhere, as well as to probe the android's memory to determine the exact cause of their demise, but didn't put much hope into it. He found himself rather resigned to that particular case having no closure.

Hank rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired. He stood up from his swivel chair, stretched his back and went to the window. He opened it and breathed in a lungful of spring evening air, rather fresh since almost all gas-based vehicles were gone from the city, no thanks to him.

It was that particular point of evening where street lights were ablaze against the still light sky, a sight Hank had always been fond of, but today it did little to disperse his gloom.

His job was getting increasingly depressing lately. For almost half a year now, he had served as a head of a special unit looking for all androids that went missing during the revolution. Some of those were missed by people they left behind, but the goal of the unit was finding all of them, including those no one else was looking for. Because there was going to be a memorial, and books of history. _Every people needed a history_ , Hank was told by Josh, one of Markus's underlings. Although that was not a word Markus himself would use. _All androids were manufactured equal and all that jazz._

Anyway, Hank had said yes, despite his past attitude towards androids. Or because of it, maybe. It was the kind of job he could lose himself in completely, pushing aside his own grieves and ghosts and just focusing on processing thousands of reports on missing or found androids.

But those past few weeks, the number was trickling down, and the only discoveries they were making were grim ones such as today.

Those who wanted to be found had been heard from already; that left those who were content to disappear without a trace and those who didn't have a say in the matter.

Hank found himself thinking of Connor, not for the first time wondering into which category his former partner fell. The revolution had been victorious. Androids got their rights all right – they were recognized as their own persons, got paid for the jobs they did, owned property. The list went on and on.

All this time, there had been not a single word from Connor. Hank sincerely hoped that Connor escaped to Canada, and didn't send a word because he wanted nothing to do with Hank, which was understandable. But Hank still wondered. And it'd be a lie to say that Connor's disappearance wasn't one of the reasons why he accepted the offer of heading this unit.

"Hank," a voice roused him from his musings. When Hank turned to face his visitor, his eyes went a little wider to see Markus himself gracing him with a visit, which didn't happen all that often.

"What brings you here, Markus?" Hank asked him.

"Have you heard of Flat Rock?" Markus answered his question with another of his own.

"No, not really. What's there?"

"A camp," Markus replied succinctly. Hank doubted his own hearing for a moment.

"But that's – all camps were abolished last year," he protested.

"The official ones, yes," Markus explained. "There've been rumors about others run by private individuals, with the government's silent approval, I'm sure you've encountered those yourself. And this got confirmed yesterday."

Hank swallowed. He had indeed heard the rumors Markus mentioned, though at the time he had just put them on his conspiracy bullshit shelf, right there with the Russians pulling the strings of the American government. Those rumors basically said that apart from the so-called recall centers, which was a deceitfully innocuous name for extermination camps, there were also facilities whose main goal was to use self-aware androids as all kinds of test subjects for things the Universal Human Rights Convention strictly forbade doing to humans, and that some of those never ceased their operation.

Markus's news was both good and bad; on one hand, it was horrifying that such a place existed, whether the government knew about it or not. On the other, though, if those held there were used as test subjects, chances were that at least some of them were found alive.

"You've got a list of serial numbers for me?" Hank asked.

"We're still working on that; I'll send you everything through a private channel when it's done. But that's not why I'm here." Markus made a brief pause before speaking up again. "We found someone that might be of interest to you. An RK800 going by the name of Connor."

Hank's heart got stuck in his throat.

"Is he alright?" he heard himself asking through the rush of blood in his ears.

"He spent over five months in an illegal detention facility being experimented on," Markus snapped at him. "What do you think?" Hank winced at that but didn't say anything.

"Sorry," Markus said after a moment of silence, schooling his features into a neutral expression. But Hank wasn't fooled; he saw a glimpse of something that looked awfully like guilt in there, which would explain why Markus would lash out like that. Hank should know; he was no stranger to that particular defensive strategy himself.

Markus finally spoke up, "Connor's alive, but alright is not a word I'd use to describe him right now. And I'm afraid that I actually consider myself responsible for this," the android said, his face now definitely showing guilt.

"You don't think that being the leader of the android revolution makes you personally responsible for every single member of your species, do you?" Hank asked with some degree of exasperation, because that'd be very like the Markus he got to know over those last few months.

"It actually does, in a way," Markus replied with a sigh. "But that's not what I meant. It pains me to say this, but after Connor went deviant, he found Jericho and asked whether he could join us. And we- we turned him away. To find him like this… I feel like I personally betrayed him," Markus admitted quietly.

Hank vividly remembered his own thoughts on seeing Connor's goodbye note, his irritation that Connor might even consider Hank looking for him. But this irritation gradually gave way to worry, and that had been gnawing in his gut ever since, together with guilt. Because he also had a chance to help Connor when he needed it, and what did he do? Took an advantage of him at his most vulnerable, like a right bastard.

"You and me both," he mumbled under his breath. "What did they do to him at the camp?" he asked aloud.

A pained grimace crossed Markus's face.

"There've been… modifications to his body, so it could be- used for other than intended purpose, for lack of better expression," the android explained with obvious reluctance.

"Excuse me?" Hank rasped, quite unsettled by the ominously vague wording. "What d'ya mean by that?"

Markus shuffled on his feet, looking uncharacteristically awkward.

"Look, Hank," he said after a beat of silence. "The truth is we don't know the full extent of what was done to him. The camp was only found yesterday, and there were over three hundreds of androids in there, so we've got our hands full. It'd help greatly if he just talked to us. But the sad thing is, he's completely unresponsive. Catatonic."

"Can I see him?" Hank blurted without a second thought. He had behaved abominably towards Connor, he knew that much. Maybe now was his chance to make it up to him.

"I don't see why not," Markus said with obvious relief, clearly having hoped for such a request. "Seeing a familiar face might make him snap out of his state."

Hank grabbed his wallet and phone.

"Let's go then."

…

Hank couldn't say he was surprised when their destination turned out to be the ridiculously phallic CyberLife Tower. It no longer served as production facilities, at least not of whole androids. The android rights movement had so far yet to reach an agreement with the government on the continuation of android production. Some compromise had been achieved relating 'spare parts necessary for further operation', at least.

Several floors of the building now served as an android hospital. Hank had never been there before; if he found any missing persons who needed to go there, he just handed them over to the android in charge, his part of the job being done.

He didn't really picture what the hospital rooms looked like, but for some reason vaguely imagined something like creepy Matrix-like pods with hundreds of androids submerged in pools of slime.

It turned out that Connor had a room for himself with thankfully no slime in sight, just with a lot of what was probably life-support electronics. The particular devices were different from those Hank was used to seeing, but other than that, it looked much the same as a human hospital room would, with an adjustable bed, a bedside table and a single wooden chair.

There were two doctors waiting for them in the room, an android male and a human female. Hank distantly thought it strange that a human doctor should be present, but he was mostly concerned with the sight of Connor lying prone on the hospital bed, with a lot of tubes going in and out his body.

During his work for the MAP – short for Missing Android Persons Unit, Hank never had to deal with victims from an experimental camp before – had thought those were an urban legend, even – but he remembered Andronikov's house. They got an anonymous tip about something fishy going on there, which didn't surprise Hank in the slightest. Unfortunately, they arrived too late – there were no traces of Andronikov himself and all the androids were dead. Given by the state of most of them, death might have been a blessing, though. To think that that man had Connor at his mercy, and that might not even be the worst thing that happened to the android, given that he spent months in the Flat Rock…

He suppressed a shudder and focused on the here and now. Apart from the life support tubes, Connor thankfully didn't seem harmed in any obvious way. Hank knew well that sometimes the worst wounds could be invisible to the eye, but still he was glad that Connor's appearance hadn't been irreversibly altered.

Connor's face was pale, but then it always had been. His eyes were closed, with two rows of dark lashes resting against his skin.

"He's… sleeping?" Hank asked quietly.

"Standby mode. He's been mostly doing that since we got him out of the camp. Who are you?" The human doctor, a woman in her fifties with shortly-cropped gray hair, asked in a business-like voice.

"His former partner," Markus said in Hank's stead.

"Oh." The human doctor's gaze got softer. "I see," she said, looking at Hank with something akin to pity.  
 _No that sort of partner,_ Hank wanted to clear up the misunderstanding, but the words somehow got stuck in his throat when for the first time he noticed the strange shape of Connor's body under the blanket.

"What's- what is that bulge right there? " Hank asked no one in particular while a feeling of unease crept up his spine.

"It seems that that he was somehow modified so that he could carry a human fetus to term," was the android doctor's blunt answer.

Hank could only stare back in shock.

"Carry what," he said dumbly.

"We still don't know the specifics, but he has a human child growing inside of him," the human doctor said, aiming for gentle, but there was really no way to take the edge off this particular announcement.

Hank heavily sat down on the single chair, struggling to process the completely surreal information.

He hadn't known or really cared about his android partner's specific purpose during the time he actually worked with Connor, but after a few months as the head of the MAP Unit he could recite the RK800 model description by heart: assist law enforcement and engage in investigative work while making use of the wide range of its intellectual and forensic abilities.

Serving as a living incubator was definitely not a part of that particular package.

 _Used for other than intended purpose. You could say that again,_ Hank thought, teetering on the verge of hysterical laughter while running his eyes along Connor's prone form. Then Connor opened his eyes.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _So we're now officially in the mpreg territory. What are your thoughts on that?_


	9. A China Shop Full of Precious Things

When Connor's eyes snapped open, the small room went completely silent.

The android's gaze jumped back and forth between the two doctors and Markus showing nothing but confusion, possibly with an undertone of fear. He lifted himself on his forearms to be able to look at them properly, unconsciously backing into the wall behind him while doing so.

When Connor finally noticed Hank, his confusion seemed to only increase.

"Lieutenant," he said aloud, his voice hoarse with static. "What are you doing here?"

This was a perfectly understandable question, yet it left Hank speechless for a moment.

"Markus asked me for help. He said a familiar face might help you get better," he eventually opted to say, carefully choosing his words, but before he even finished his sentence, Connor's attention left him to turn to the bulge in his midsection. He reached for it with both of his hands while his expression turned from confused to distraught.

"Is Mona alright?" Connor choked out in a wavering voice while gently running his hands over his covered belly.

"Who?" Hank stared at him in incomprehension.

"My baby, did he kill her? Is my daughter dead?" Connor kept asking with increasing agitation, his eyes drilling into Hank's with disquieting intensity.

"I don't think I'm the right person to-" Hank started to say, desperately fumbling for words. He had never felt more at sea than right here in this room, where the whole situation was becoming more and more surreal by the minute.

Thankfully, the two doctors showed some considerably quicker wits than him as they immediately rushed to Connor's side.

"Your baby's fine, don't worry, love," the woman doctor assured Connor in a soothing voice while her android counterpart told Connor to try to stay calm so his heightened stress levels do not trigger any alerts in his system.

However, Connor's eyes were glazed over, not really seeing anymore.

"I can't feel her kicking," he whispered brokenly. "She's dead, he killed her, like he threatened he would if I don't do what he wanted, she's dead," Connor kept rambling, his frame shaking all over.

Hank's hands balled into fists while his throat constricted in some unnamable emotion. He desperately wished to do something to help the android, but he already felt like a bull in a china shop, his every action threatening to destroy something precious.

The android doctor sought the gaze of the human one. When she gave him a short nod, he reached out to the back of Connor's neck and pressed something that caused Connor's eyes to roll to the back of his head as he limply fell back on his pillow.

"That went well," Hank said drily, once he and Markus were out in the hall. "Who the fuck was he talking about?"

"We're looking into that," Markus told him with a grim set to his mouth. "They were warned we were coming to the camp and managed to flee. Fortunately they didn't have enough time to destroy the evidence like in Williamsville," Markus's voice got quite bitter as he said that, because a similar camp was uncovered last December with only the burnt remains of all the android prisoners.

"I'm gonna go find those motherfuckers," Hank said with conviction. "It's not like my presence here is helping anything," he added a little tiredly.

 _More like the exact opposite._

Markus didn't argue the point, his face a study of barely concealed guilt. He probably regretted bringing Hank here and putting Connor under even more stress.

"Got a case to solve," Hank told him with a parting nod. "Call me if there's any change."

…

The police inspection of the camp site showed that the camp leaders managed to take most of the computer equipment with them. Hank charged one of the DPD's IT specialists with analyzing the rest, but so far she mostly uncovered mundane things like shopping lists and electricity bills related to the day-to-day operation of the education center that served as the facility's innocent cover.

That left the MAP unit with just witness questioning, but that was still quite a lot of work given that they had about six dozens of android survivors, and that was not counting the unfortunately much more numerous dead ones whose memories could also be probed, if their cores were not damaged too badly. If he could choose, Hank left that particular task to his officers, because even after all this time, he found questioning the dead just a bit too disturbing.

Recently, as the number of the androids they managed to find on weekly basis dwindled down to almost nothing, Hank had given most of his staff – which was unsurprisingly all-android – the status of reserve officers or lent them to other departments if need arose, but now he sent them a mass message to immediately report back to duty.

He left Augustus, his only full-time subordinate, in charge of the office, and went away to the CyberLife Tower to begin the questioning.

Some of the survivors were located on what immediately became Connor's floor in his mind, but most were placed five floors below. He didn't feel like facing Connor just yet, so he started with the latter location. Josh, whom Hank had told earlier he was on his way, was already there, and took him into a small lounge with a few blue cushioned chairs.

"Where do you want to start?" the dark-skinned android asked him.

"Bring me someone who appears the least traumatized?" Hank suggested.

"You mean least likely to feel threatened by a human investigator," Josh translated his words.

Hank answered with a brief nod.

On his way out of the room, Josh gave him a dubious once-over, which Hank could completely understand. He was aware that his mountain-like stature and general unkemptness didn't help matters; when he was younger, he was quite good at creating a 'big friendly dog' kind of impression, but that was before things went downhill and he became ragged around the edges, too jaded to be able to pull that off anymore.

After a short while, Josh returned with a woman android Hank recognized as a waitress model, a curvy blond who started to shake uncontrollably at the very sight of him before Hank got the chance to say a single word.

"Please don't make me do it again, I'd rather die," she choked out, her voice a mix of terror and revulsion. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her knees gave way under her. She would have fallen were it not for Josh catching her and helping her into a chair.

Hank was already on his way out at that moment, with Josh following his hasty retreat with an apologetic expression that held just the slightest hint of 'I told you so'.

When Hank reached the door, he almost bumped into Irene, a down-to-earth brunette with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, who was the fastest of his officers to get here.

"Should I take over, Lieutenant?" she mouthed at him.

"Go ahead," he mumbled tiredly and went out to wait in the hall. He couldn't help but find it worrying that Josh thought this girl was the least traumatized of the rescued androids because if that really was the case, he couldn't imagine what the most affected of the lot would look like.

It didn't take long for Irene to reappear.

"Her stress levels were critical, so I couldn't get much out of her, boss," she informed him matter-of-factly. "She freaked out so hard when you talked to her because you reminded her of someone from the camp, a human named Zlatko Andronikov. I couldn't get her to say what his exact role in the camp was but-"

"Did you say Andronikov?" Hank asked with disbelief, for a moment doubting his hearing.

"Yes, it's not the kind of name you forget," Irene confirmed, looking slightly puzzled by his reaction. "Do you know him, boss?"

"Had the dubious pleasure," Hank answered, disgust seeping into his words. "We had problems with him before. He kept a bunch of androids in his basement for some fucked up experiments."

"Then Flat Rock had to be like a dream come true for him," Irene said with a frown.

Hank thought of Connor and felt sick.

…

Hank took a sip from his fourth drink while stubbing his cigarette – those he didn't even count. Once again, he was the only one sitting in the front of the Jimmy's Bar, which was perfectly fine by him. He didn't care for company tonight.

He had spent three days overseeing the questioning of the Flat Rock androids. After that disastrous first try, he had not questioned anyone personally but was instead collecting the testimonies from his staff, analyzing them to get the greater picture.

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that the experiments carried out in the camp were of a highly unethical nature, but they involved more psychological than physical torture; the researchers subjected the androids to complete isolation, sensory deprivation, mock executions and the like, comparing their reactions to the scant material available about human behavior in those kind of situations.

Several witnesses mentioned Andronikov, always with fear. However, the name that appeared even more often and caused even greater terror among the rescued was that of one Herman Steiner. It didn't take Hank long to discover that there was an FBI agent of the same name, whose appearance matched the description they got from the witnesses. However, Hank didn't have the necessary authorization to access Steiner's file; his request for it was still pending.

During that time, Hank didn't receive any news on Connor, nor did he ask for it. But no matter what he did, he couldn't keep his former partner out of his mind.

For one, he was dying of curiosity of what the hell had actually happened that made it possible for Connor to be- _that._

Hell, this whole thing was so bizarre, he couldn't even bring himself to say the word _pregnant_.

 _I definitely should have asked more questions_ , Hank thought as he gulped down the rest of this drink. How did this all even _work_? And whose kid it was that was growing inside of Connor?

 _Given how things were at the camp, it was probably Andronikov's or worse_ , Hank thought, suppressing a shudder. But then he suddenly realized that Andronikov held Connor captive _before_ , experimenting on him for over twelve hours while Hank couldn't give a crap.

He forcibly suppressed a pang of remorse, beckoning at Jimmy to give him another drink.

When he had it safely in hand, he couldn't help but wonder whether his inactivity didn't give Andronikov time to carry out whatever twisted modifications he could envisage already during that time, and then when Hank fucked Connor-

 _It could be his child._

 _Mona,_ Hank suddenly remembered Connor was calling her, making the whole idea much more tangible, leading him to imagine a chubby baby girl with a tuft of brown hair on the top of her head. Who looked very much like Cole did at the time when Hank's ex-wife packed all her stuff and their six-month-old son and left for Australia, where her parents lived.

This unleashed an entire avalanche of unwanted memories no amount of whisky could fully erase; how Hank finally found the time to visit his son five months later, only to discover that his kid didn't recognize him anymore, hell, was too scared of the tall bearded stranger to even let Hank hold him.

How he had never seen Cole since then. How he had liked the idea of a little him running around there somewhere, liked to think his kid was better off without Hank as his dad, until the accident prove him otherwise.

Or maybe it didn't; maybe the same thing would have happened even if Hank had gotten the custody instead, like his grief counselor told him, as though there was any consolation whatsoever to be had in that thought: _you were such a shitty father that he'd definitely die in your care as well,_ was what Hank had taken from it.

But there was no sense in playing what-ifs now. The truth stood that Cole and Joanna got into a car accident, with Joanna dying instantly and Cole being taken into a hospital for surgery, which had to be done by an android as the human surgeon in charge was too high on red ice to operate.

Cole didn't make it.

Afterwards, Hank hated Joanna's new boyfriend, even though the man looked just as grief-stricken as Hank himself felt, hated the surgeon who didn't operate, hated the android who did.

Hated himself, for ever letting his son go.

Hank finished his fifth drink and asked for the bill. He felt like he could go on drinking forever, but had to keep himself in a working condition, so he could go back to catching bastards like Andronikov and Steiner tomorrow.

As he headed for the exit on slightly unsteady feet, he was reasonably sure he had been torturing himself with all those painful memories for nothing; there was next to no chance that the kid inside Connor was his.

Still, the image of that tuft of brown hair kept haunting his dreams that night.

* * *

 _A/N: I changed Hank's backstory a little to better fit the way he acts here. While the grief he feels due to the loss of his son is still immense, Hank's in a slightly different place due to the distance that had existed between them._

 _Next up: Hank gets a call from the hospital._


	10. Certain Legal Matters

Once again, Connor found himself poked and prodded while being strapped to a table, this time by a bunch of men and women in lab coats who probably fancied themselves scientists. What made the situation even worse was the fact that the invasion to his body was accompanied by an invasion to his mind, so he couldn't hide there and detach himself from what was happening as he learned to do with Andronikov.

Fortunately, it didn't take long before those self-dubbed scientists managed to find something in Connor's memories that made them unbind the android and put him up in a tiny holding cell, so cramped he barely could stretch his legs in there.

Once left alone, Connor was afraid of what awaited him, but mostly he felt glad he was no longer strapped to a table. He curled into a ball, as comfortable as the cramped space allowed him.

After a few hours, he was roused by the sound of a door opening. Connor looked up and saw a face he hoped never to lay his eyes on again. He scrambled to his feet, backing away from Zlatko Andronikov as the man entered the cell, immediately filling up the narrow room.

Connor was able to make just a few steps before his back collided with the wall. In one long stride, the abhorrent man was standing right in front of him, looming over the android.

"Hello, beautiful," Andronikov said with an indulgent smile that alone made Connor almost shudder with revulsion. Memories of the man's unwanted touches made the android close his eyes.

"I can't express how happy I am to see you like this. I would never believe that this particular experiment would succeed on the very first try. Congratulations, you're going to be a mommy," the man said, his voice oozing good cheer.

Connor's eyes snapped open to stare at the man in disbelief.

"You must be joking," he said tonelessly.

"Oh, has no one told you the great news?" Andronikov asked mockingly as he moved even closer, patting the flat curve of Connor's belly.

"There's a tiny little baby growing right here, can you believe it?" the man said with a toothy grin, indicating the size of the fetus with two of his meaty fingers.

"That's impossible. Androids do not procreate," Connor argued, but doubts were gnawing at him already.

"We should call it a fetus at this point, as it's just a bunch of cells, but it's still impressive," Andronikov continued, completely ignoring him. "I did tell you I was a genius, didn't I?"

Andronikov's cloying breath was reaching his nostrils, making Connor queasy. He wished his tormenter would step back, or better, finally leave him alone. Once again, he found himself at the mercy of this monster of a man, who had impossibly enough became even more insane in the course of the past two days.

"Androids do not have any genetic material, so they cannot procreate," Connor tried to protest again, hating how weak his voice came out.

Andronikov tutted at him.

"What an appalling lack of imagination you have. Of course that the baby's not technically yours, silly. I used a donor egg and fertilized it with my own genetic material."

Connor's legs started to shake as he remembered Andronikov forcing himself onto his body.

He was now carrying a part of that man inside of him.

 _ra9 help him._

Connor had no digestive tract to speak of, but he could describe the sensations he was feeling only as nauseous. Were he a human, he would have definitely thrown up by now.

Andronikov stroke his face in a show of mock gentleness, relishing the way the android trembled under the touch.

"Don't make that face, pretty. Are you not excited that you're paving the way to progress?" the man whispered as Connor felt his knees give way under him, his back sliding down the wall until he hit the ground.

…

Hank got a call in the early morning from a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Stella Rosenblatt.

He stumbled to open the blinds and blinked into the bright morning light, trying to dispel the whiskey-induced fog in his mind. He didn't know anyone by that name, though the voice sounded a little familiar.

However, things started to make sense when she said:

"I'm calling because of Connor. I'm one of his doctors, we met earlier at the CyberLife hospital."

This statement jerked Hank into instant alertness as he finally connected the voice to the human doctor – a bespectacled woman in her late fifties – who was trying in vain to get Connor to calm down.

"Is he okay?" Hank rasped.

"He's been lucid since yesterday evening, and he requested your presence. Also, there are certain… legal matters that need to be cleared up," Dr. Rosenblatt informed him vaguely.

"Legal matters?" Hank repeated dumbly. For the love of him, he could not imagine what those might me.

"I'll tell you more in person," the doctor promised.

"I'll be on my way," Hank told her curtly, already putting his clothes on in a haste to leave the house.

…

Before he reached the CyberLife Tower, Hank managed to gulp down two cups of coffee, but despite his head getting much clearer, he still wasn't any closer to imagining what legal issues regarding Connor he was summoned to discuss.

Connor might want to press charges against the camp leaders, but what would that have to do with Hank? This side of things was usually managed by Markus and his crew. Connor might feel that Markus betrayed him, but Hank had done even worse by him, so there was no reason he'd turn to him instead of the android leader.

While Hank was still pondering the reason he was even there, Dr. Rosenblatt led him to a small lounge that was almost identical to the one the MAP Unit used for witness questioning. They sat opposite each other at a low sofa table and Hank was offered some water, which he gratefully accepted; all that coffee left his throat rather parched.

The doctor didn't waste any time with small talk.

"First of all, Connor gave me the permission to share his medical information with you. Actually, he has specifically designated you as his next of kin. If you agree to this, please sign this form," she told Hank bluntly, her grey eyes giving him a measuring look behind her round glasses as she slid a few sheets of papers towards him.

Hank took a sip of his water to hide his surprise.

This was unexpected, to say the least. But while he was taken aback by Connor's request, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pity for the android. If he wanted Hank of all people to be his next of kin, it meant that every other human he had met during his brief messed-up life must have been even worse.

 _That's fucking terrible._

"Where do I sign?" Hank asked aloud while skim-reading the papers in front of him, not really taking in their content.

The doctor pointed at the last page and waited until Hank scribbled his signature at the bottom before speaking up again.

"Now I can tell you that neither Connor nor the baby are in danger at present. Connor's physical condition is surprisingly good, considering the drastic changes he went through. As for his psychological condition, you'd have to ask Malik – that's Connor's primary physician – about that, as I am here mostly in an obstetrician's capacity."

 _Obstetrician._ Another word Hank had never thought he'd use in connection with Connor, or androids in general.

 _But here we are._

"As for the pregnancy itself," Dr. Rosenblatt continued, seemingly unconcerned with the way Hank's mind was reeling already, "I won't bother you with anatomical details, and we're still not sure about some aspects of the process, but it seems that the man responsible for the modifications somehow created a functional female reproductive system, which he installed– I mean transplanted into Connor's body, complete with mature eggs that must have been somehow obtained from a human woman. Shortly after, one of these eggs got fertilized."

Dr. Rosenblatt made a pause here, peering at Hank from behind her spectacles. _Maybe she was waiting for some comments on who exactly was the one doing the fertilizing_ , Hank thought wryly, but he had zero intention of discussing that with her. Right now, something else was nagging at him.

"How did the fetus survive? Androids don't drink or eat," Hank pointed out.

"You're right. In the camp, Connor was connected to some kind of support system designed to nurture the fetus; we managed to transport him together with that," the doctor enlightened him.

Hank nodded, accepting her explanation.

"It's of course highly experimental," the doctor went on. "I said that Connor is in no danger now, but that can unfortunately change at any time. This procedure has never been done before, so we have no way to predict future developments. We simply don't know what happens next," she said matter-of-factly.

Hank quickly connected the dots.

"So this is why I'm here? So I can make medical decisions for Connor if he's unable to make them himself?" he asked for confirmation.

"That's a part of it, but there's more," Dr. Rosenblatt surprised him by saying. "I'm sure you're aware that androids' right to reproduction is still under negotiations, but the discussions focus on factory production only. There are some mixed couples already, but android-human adoption has not even become an issue yet. Needless to tell, Connor's particular situation is without precedent."

It took Hank a moment to digest this, but he was slowly starting to see where this conversation was going. However, it was still a shock to hear Dr. Rosenblatt's next words.

"When the baby's born, she will legally be an orphan."

"That's messed up," Hank said with a huff.

"Unfortunately, as the law currently stands, she will be born completely parentless, and automatically become a ward of the state. Because of Connor's situation, I've naturally discussed adoption options with him and he said he'd think about it, but between you and me, I don't think that's what he really wants," Dr. Rosenblatt said and Hank could detect some remorse in her words, the first crack in the doctor's professional façade.

Hank spent mere minutes with Connor on his first and only visit and he already had to agree with her. From the little Hank had seen, Connor seemed quite attached to the unborn baby. Hell, he had named her already; Hank simply couldn't imagine the android wanting to give her away.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked aloud.

"I know nothing about your relationship with Connor, so I would not presume to suggest anything. I just had to inform you of this matter as his next of kin," she said nonchalantly, but Hank was not fooled. Especially because he noticed she had another set of papers ready.

He gestured at the doctor to hand him the documents. A brief look at the title page told him that it was exactly what he thought.

"Did Connor ask you to do this?" Hank asked the doctor, suspicion clear in his words.

"Not in so many words," she admitted. "Even if you're doing this only as legal cover, you should discuss this with him before you sign. He slipped into standby mode not long before you arrived and might not wake again for some time, but I will call you immediately when he does."

Hank nodded. He selfishly hoped that Connor would stay in standby for as long as possible – if it didn't harm him or the baby, of course – because Hank really needed some time to digest all this.

Even if it was just to bypass the law, signing this form would mean giving the unborn baby his name.

 _Certain legal issues, my ass,_ Hank thought wryly as he looked at the line of the form that was to be filled with the father's personal information, which the helpful doctor marked with a red circle.

Dr. Rosenblatt spoke up again, interrupted Hank's musings.

"Another thing you should know about Connor's pregnancy is that-"

Before she could finish her sentence, there was a knock at the door.

"The patient has woken up, and he's asking for Lieutenant Anderson again," a male nurse told them upon his entry.

Hank sighed in resignation.

 _So much for time to think it through,_ he thought dejectedly as he rose from the chair, gathering his courage as he did so.

"Can we finish this later? I think it's time me and Connor have a talk," he told Dr. Rosenblatt.

"Of course," she nodded. "I don't think I need to remind you to treat Connor carefully, now do I?" she said mildly, but that mildness was belied by the steel in her eyes.

 _Hurt him and I'll have your balls on a silver platter_ , Hank translated it for himself, smiling a little. He was glad that Connor had someone like Dr. Rosenblatt in his corner.

* * *

 _A/N: Next up: Hank and Connor have a talk. The question is, will talking be all they'll be doing? *wink wink* Also, if anyone here's following this, maybe consider leaving me a review? Writing is kinda lonely job, so any feedback would be much appreciated._


	11. Nothing to Offer

_A/N: Warning: this chapter contains a brief non-con flashback_

* * *

Connor didn't expect that his request to see Lieutenant Anderson would be granted in mere minutes. He had only just started to compose what he planned to say to his former partner in his head, when the door to his door opened to admit the man himself, accompanied by an android nurse.

Connor had only vague recollections of Anderson's first visit three days prior when his mind kept being attacked by flashbacks to that last terrible encounter with Steiner, when the man threatened to cut his baby out of him. Now he was able to finally give Hank Anderson a proper look.

He was just as huge as Connor remembered, towering over him for a moment before he sat down on the single chair, making it creak under his weight.

His greying hair and beard still looked in need of a trim and there were dark circles under his eyes, indicating lack of sleep. His clothes gave out a faint odor of tobacco and liquor. Despite all this, the detective's overall presence had a different quality than when they had worked together; there was something less feral about him now, some sort of focus that had not been there before.

But that wasn't the most striking difference; that lied in the man's expression. Before, Anderson had always regarded Connor with hostility, either open or barely concealed, which was there even during their passionate encounter. Now, it had disappeared without a trace, leaving only unease in its place.

The lack of animosity wasn't really that surprising, though. After all, Markus had informed Connor about all the work Lieutenant Anderson did in the special unit dedicated to finding all androids that went missing during the Revolution. The android leader also claimed that he was sure it wasn't mere opportunism on the man's part, an attempt to reignite his career, as he was really pouring all of his energies to the task of finding as many androids as possible and flatly refused all publicity. From the little he got to know about the man during their disastrous partnership, Connor had to agree with Markus's assessment, because he learned that the Lieutenant was a man who did things out of conviction, not speculation. That meant he must have changed his views on androids completely.

The subject of Connor's musing shifted under his scrutiny, his eyes darting nervously towards the nurse who stood motionlessly by the door, silently keeping his guard.

"Can't we get some privacy in here?" Anderson finally snapped. The nurse looked at Connor, who gave him a brief nod, and then exited the room.

Once they were left alone, Connor became hyperaware of the man's physical presence just two feet from him. He found himself particularly drawn to the detective's forearms, bare as the man wore the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and covered with dark hair.

Connor felt a sudden desire to run his hand through that hair, feel the muscles underneath the skin. He also wanted the man's big, callused hands all over his body. The place between his legs started to throb and he had to bite back a moan. He didn't understand this. After all that happened to him, he didn't expect to feel anything like this towards anyone, least of all this man. Especially because since to his relief, Malik managed to disable that infernal switch that Andronikov and Steiner used to make him feel sexual need against his wishes.

No; this was all Connor, and he didn't understand it.

Not to mention that this was wildly inappropriate – they had important matters to discuss. Connor couldn't let himself be distracted by… that.

Connor couldn't honestly say whether he felt relieved or disappointed that the Lieutenant didn't seem to share his predicament. On the contrary, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, shifting in his chair and staring at some spot above Connor's head to avoid eye contact.

"So. Uhm. I talked to your doctor," Anderson finally said in the way of a reluctant opening, obviously not in his element.

"To Malik? Why?" Connor asked with slight puzzlement.

"No, to Dr. Rosenblatt," his visitor corrected him.

Oh. Connor remembered his morning conversation with the human doctor and felt silly; after spending some time studying the relevant legislation, he realized how precarious his situation was and mentioned the need to have a next of kin to Dr. Rosenblatt, not Malik.

Truth to be told, he had become so used to slipping into standby wherever he had the chance that it became quite hard to distinguish between what actually happened and what was only in his mind. For a moment, he had thought this conversation belonged to the latter category.

"I think of her as of Mona's doctor, rather than mine," he said out loud as it was also true, with the added benefit of making him seem less unhinged. "Mona is the name I chose for the baby," he added at the sight of the Lieutenant's uncomprehending expression.

"It's a nice name," Anderson muttered, still not looking Connor in the eye.

A short silence reigned between them during which Connor waited for the man to say something else. When that didn't happen, he spoke up himself.

"I wanted Dr. Rosenblatt to ask for your help with certain-"

"Legal matters, yeah. We've been through this, I signed that next of kin form, don't worry about that," the Lieutenant said, finally meeting his gaze.

"Thank you," Connor said with emphasis, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had no idea what would happen next, but at least now he had someone who would make the necessary decisions if he was unable to do so.

Which could very well become an issue, because recently, his grasp on reality had been tenuous at best. Who could say that he would not succumb to another flashback, see the specters of the monsters from his past in this room and hurt himself or worse, Mona in an attempt to flee them?

Connor forced himself to focus on the man before him, who was just taking a deep breath, obviously steeling himself for something.

"I'm ready to sign the paternity declaration, too," was what he said.

Connor couldn't hide his surprise.

"I never asked-I don't think it's a good idea," he commented quietly.

A look of open hurt passed through the man's features before he schooled his expression into more a neutral one, if still a bit sad.

"You're right, of course. I get you don't want a wreck like me to be your kid's father. And you don't even know my history. If you knew, you'd never-"

"No, you don't understand," Connor interjected, because the Lieutenant seemed to have taken this in a completely wrong way. "I do want you to be Mona's father," he hurried to explain. "Because I-"

Hope you are, he almost said before catching himself.

"There is a fifty percent chance you are," was what eventually left his mouth.

"Can we know for sure?" the man asked him, quite predictably. He would hardly accept to become a parent of another man's child, much less a man like Andronikov.

"I asked Dr. Rosenblatt if I could have a DNA test, but she said that it'd be too risky before the birth," Connor lied, praying Anderson would not see through his falsehood.

The truth was that she said there was a completely safe, non-invasive way of determining paternity already during pregnancy, but Connor had been too scared to undergo that test – not because of the procedure itself, which was nothing more than a prickle to his finger, but of the possibility of his fears coming true.

The Lieutenant simply nodded, eyeing him thoughtfully.

There was another spell of silence, which Connor suddenly found unbearable.

"Andronikov kept telling me that the child was his, because he didn't know about you," Connor found himself confiding in the man. "He thought he was the only one who-" The android broke his sentence off, feeling his cheeks heat up in shame.

"He said he'd take her away from me," he whispered as his mind started to replay a particular memory; unwanted, as most of his memories sadly were.

One time when Andronikov felt particularly chatty – which was coincidentally after he made Connor go down on his knees and forced his cock between the android's lips, fucking his throat for a torturously long period of time before finally coming all over Connor's face – he told Connor that after the child is born, he'd make a nice business from lending Connor to sterile human couples as the perfect surrogate.

"What about my baby?" Connor had forced out a question, his throat still burning from the rough treatment and his left eye stinging unbearably from a streak of Andronikov's cum that had landed there before and that he couldn't wipe away, as the man chose to bind Connor's hands behind his back for this particular session.

Andronikov laughed while zipping up his pants, completely uncaring about Connor's discomfort.

"Your baby? Please. Don't you get it? She belongs to me, and me only. An oven doesn't own the bread that's baked in it, hmmm?"

The burn in Connor's throat had started to choke him as the man continued with casual cruelty, "just so you know, I plan to give her to my family in Russia. There she can be raised properly, without all that android rights nonsense muddling her head."

"I… I don't want her to be his," Connor choked out at present, pressing his hands to his stomach while vividly reliving the desperation he had felt at that moment.

"Even if she was his child, chances are he'd be in prison for the rest of his life if he's caught. He'd never get custody," the Lieutenant pointed out quite reasonably.

But Connor's mind wasn't in a state to understand reason. His lungs were already constricting in panic and he couldn't get in any air, which he might not need but his baby did, and he was powerless to do anything about it, imprisoned in his frozen body just like he had been in the camp.

"Fuck, I don't have anything to- can you just breathe with me?" Connor heard a voice say just next to his ear as he uselessly struggled for air.

"Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in… that's it, yeah, you're doing great," the voice kept encouraging him while a big hand gently rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to resume regular breathing.

It took Connor another moment to realize that he was no longer at the camp, but in his hospital room together with his former partner. Who was now sitting next to him on the bed, close but not quite touching, immediately removing his hand when he noticed Connor coming back to himself.

Connor wanted to tell him that he didn't mind that touch, right on the contrary, but couldn't find the courage to do so.

"As I said, I know I'm no father material, but I get I'm the lesser of two evils here, so I have no problem with signing that paternity declaration," the man told Connor, his expression earnest. "I will keep my distance if that's what you wish, won't meddle with your parenting or anything. I'll just give your child my name."

Connor took a breath so deep that it felt almost painful after his previous episode.

"That's very kind of you, but… don't you see that she'd be better off in a complete human family than with a single android parent?" Connor asked him, absentmindedly rubbing his belly as he did so. As a human, there were some simple things the Lieutenant took for granted, but which Connor was denied.

"Don't you see that I have nothing, not even a name to give her?" he spat out, bitterness seeping into his words without his volition. "That's why I should give her away, for her own good. I've got nothing to offer her," he said, and this time his voice came out pleading.

Connor bit his lower lip, feeling hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

Suddenly, there were arms around him, tentative, seeking his permission. Connor closed his eyes and granted it, letting himself be held. He found the man's action unexpected but very welcome.

"Hush, I think you're gonna be just the perfect mom. Or dad," the Lieutenant told him awkwardly.

"Mother is fine," Connor smiled a little through his tears. "I'm aware that most of your society might find it strange, but that's how I've come to regard myself over the last few months."

"Whatever works for you," the man whispered into his hair, tightening his embrace.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Connor whispered in turn, his heart starting to beat faster in reaction to the sudden intimacy.

"I think that under the circumstances, you should call me Hank, don't you think?"

The deep rumble of the detective's voice sent a shiver down Connor's spine as the android found himself nodding in assent. Then the Lieutenant's – Hank's – hand suddenly flinched away from where it was resting on his stomach.

"Hey, what was that?" the detective asked in surprise.

Connor was confused for the briefest moment before he realized what caused this reaction.

He had become so accustomed to those sensations by now that they didn't concern him at all; nowadays, it was when they were missing for too long that he got alarmed.

"Mona's kicking right now. Do you want to feel her?" Connor asked a little shyly.

"Yeah," the man replied from behind him, his voice coming out raw.

As her maneuvering space was getting considerably smaller lately, most of Mona's movements had become weaker; Connor could imagine that they would be even less noticeable through the thick fabric of his hospital gown.

In a split-second decision, Connor lifted the gown up, guiding Hank's hand back to his now naked belly. They were in luck; Mona decided to continue her exercise for a little while before going still again.

When the detective removed his hand, Connor immediately missed its warmth. He let his gown fall back down, not knowing what to do next.

Until he heard the rapid intake of breath behind him, which made him turn his head to face the man.

To his surprise, he found that Hank's eyes were alight with what could only be desire.

* * *

 _A/N: Next up: guess what ;)_


	12. A Spectacularly Bad Idea

When Connor offered Hank to feel the baby kicking, Hank didn't expect that the android would lift up his hospital gown, just like that. And he sure as hell didn't expect Connor to wear nothing underneath.

Hank obediently put his hand on Connor's stomach, but even when he was marveling at the miracle of life he might have helped create, some part of his mind kept focusing on the fact that Connor _wore nothing under that goddamn gown_.

Especially since the heat radiating from Connor's skin made him remember that night in November when he fucked the android in his house. Afterwards, he had to admit to himself that it was the single most erotic experience of his life, beating even his and Joanna's wildest moments.

Hank slept with a few people during the time Connor was missing – three humans and one android, even – but nothing came even remotely close. And every time he came, it was to the image of Connor's face contorted in ecstasy while Hank pounded into him with all he got. At present, this memory was getting him uncomfortably hard, no matter how much he tried to focus on other things.

When the kicking quieted down, Hank carefully pulled away to prevent Connor from noticing his growing erection, but couldn't stop the gasp he let out as he did so.

Connor turned to look at him in a flash.

"You are aroused," the android observed with something akin to wonder.

Hank's face instantly heated up from the shame of being caught red-handed.

"I should be going," he mumbled while abruptly standing up.

Connor caught his wrist with surprising strength, forcing him to sit back.

"Please stay," he said huskily. Then he placed his hand right over the bulge in Hank's pants, making Hank hiss through his teeth.

"I don't mind that you want this. In fact... I want it too," Connor said plainly while looking right into his eyes, and to his surprise, Hank saw a reflection of his own desire in that gaze. When he first came into the room, he had a brief impression of Connor looking at him like that, but he thought it was a trick of his imagination.

Connor's hand rubbed his length through the fabric of his pants, making Hank stifle a moan. This was such a spectacularly bad idea, he knew he should be running for the hills, but he found himself unable to move an inch.

The problem was, it wasn't just that the memory of the best sex of Hank's life was pretty damn tempting, but the fact that Connor was very obviously pregnant with what could be Hank's baby didn't help matters either.

While Hank did nothing to stop Connor from touching him, he found his mind straying to the time of his and Joanna's time together. To be honest, the entire marriage had evolved around sex; it started out as a wild night at a club where they had a drunken but memorable quickie against the back wall. They did exchange contact information but neither made use of it until few weeks later – when Joanna found out she was pregnant with his baby.

As they were both unattached and shared quite strong belief in complete families, they decided they would give being together a try, for the sake of the baby. The problem was that Joanna had been from Australia, and was only visiting some friends in the States at the time they met. They had to marry quick for her to be able to stay long-term, and it soon turned out to be a disaster. Apart from the two of them having next to nothing in common, Joanna's hasty move left her miserable. She quickly discovered she disliked America and Americans and absolutely loathed Hank's job that kept him away from home for insanely long hours, leaving her alone in a place where she had no connections. Unsurprisingly, the two of them had a lot of rows, usually followed with make-up sex. Which had been great, especially in the later months of Joanna's pregnancy, where her hormones habitually made her jump Hank's bones before he even passed through the doorway.

That was the only time of their brief marriage that could be regarded as happy, Hank guessed.

Despite his rather fond memories of pregnant sex and understanding of the power of pregnancy hormones – or whatever equivalent androids seemed to have – Hank still felt obligated to stop Connor when the android finally quitted playing with him through his pants and reached for the zipper.

"Look, Connor, this is not a good idea. You don't know what you want-" he started to protest, but his words were cut short by a sharp sting caused by a palm colliding with his cheek.

 _Connor slapped him_ , Hank thought incredulously, looking at the android in shock.

Connor looked just as shocked from his own action as Hank himself felt, maybe a little fearful like he expected Hank to retaliate, which was slightly horrifying. At the same time, his eyes were ablaze with righteous anger.

"I'm sick of being treated like a test subject, like a thing! I _do_ know what I want, I have the right to decide that for myself," he spat out.

Struck by a sudden impulse, Hank took the hand that slapped him and placed a kiss on Connor's wrist.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and saw Connor's anger dissipate almost instantly. "Of course you can decide for yourself, it's just – I don't wanna hurt you. That's why I think we shouldn't," Hank said truthfully, even though he was still so hard it was painful.

Because Connor's action did nothing to quell his excitement, quite the opposite; he found the unexpected show of fierceness thrilling. He was also glad to see that the android still got some fire in him, that they didn't beat it out of him at the camp.

"Then lie down and let me do all the work," Connor suggested and the fierceness that intrigued Hank a moment before was back as the android didn't hesitate to push Hank down on the narrow bed with an unexpected amount of force, instantly straddling him.

"The door's not locked. What if someone comes in?" Hank argued, but it sounded weak even to his own ears, especially since this time, he did nothing to prevent Connor's nimble fingers from finally unzipping his pants and freeing his cock.

"You did ask for privacy, remember?" Connor said with a cheeky grin, which Hank found rather endearing. He realized that the android almost never smiled, which was understandable, considering what he had been through, and vowed to himself to change that, even though he realized he was not the most qualified person for that job.

Then Connor removed the hospital gown over his head, throwing it carelessly on the ground, making all charitable thoughts flee Hank's head.

Hank drank in the sight of the expanse of ivory skin in front of him. It was a little strange not to see a bouncing pair of tits above that round belly, but the sight of Connor's dark, pert nipples also did it for him; he reached out and touched one, relishing the downright filthy-sounding moan he managed to elicit.

That time in Hank's house, they did this mostly clothed. This time, Hank still had his shirt on, but Connor was completely naked, to Hank's great delight. Though hasty clothed sex had its charm, it couldn't beat skin on skin contact, even limited as it was in the position Connor assumed.

When Connor rubbed his leaking orifice against Hank's cock, Hank was so turned on he thought he could come right away.

As if he could tell, Connor's fingers quickly encircled his length, guiding Hank inside of him.

"Are you sure-"

Hank didn't get to finish his question as Connor bore down on his cock, getting balls deep in a matter of seconds.

Hank gasped as hot, wet tightness enveloped his cock.

He forgot how incredible that felt. No matter how many times he relived their first time in his fantasies, it couldn't beat the real thing, which was already glorious, and that was before Connor even started to move.

Hank put his hands on Connor's hips, marveling how narrow they were, especially in contrast to the curve of his belly.

Connor moaned above him, bracing himself against Hank's shoulders, and then finally started to move, sliding up and down Hank's length like he was born to do it.

Hank's grip on Connor's hips tightened, but even as he was nearing climax and thinking was becoming near impossible, he left Connor completely in charge, not trying to take control of the rhythm, just letting the android ride him as he wished.

And ride him he did; Connor kept impaling himself on Hank's cock with increasing fervor, making Hank buck his hips up despite his best efforts to lie back and let Connor do all the work, as he was asked to do.

When Connor finally threw his head back with his eyes shut close in ecstasy, his insides clenched around Hank's cock so hard that Hank had no choice but to come too, shooting his load inside the android even though he had originally planned to pull out.

Afterward, when were they lying together in a mess of tangled limbs, barely fitting inside the narrow bed, Hank's hand caressing Connor's belly was met with a jolt from the inside.

As Mona resumed her kicking, Hank belatedly realized that although he had questioned Connor's judgment in wanting this, he had never asked whether this was safe for the baby. But given how protective Connor was of Mona, he was sure the android would never endanger her on purpose.

Nevertheless, when Dr. Rosenblatt found them like this a moment later, she didn't look very happy.

* * *

 _A/N: You didn't believe they'd really do it, right? Oh well..._

 _Gotta focus on my PhD for a few weeks, so see you when that's settled!_


	13. The Committee's Decision

Dr. Stella Rosenblatt exited the meeting room and headed towards her office. The committee reached a decision regarding Connor's birth today. Dr. Rosenblatt was quite happy about the outcome, which was a scheduled caesarean section. It didn't surprise her, but she had been a little afraid, given that the ratio of the human and android members of the committee was three to one, that they'd opt for natural birth just to see what would happen. Endangering the lives of both Connor and his baby for the sake of science.

In her opinion, Connor already had more than his fair share of experimenting done on him.

Deep in thought, Dr. Rosenblatt almost bumped into a male android nurse emerging from behind the corner.

"Sorry, Johnathan, I didn't see you," she apologized to the android. "Has Lieutenant Anderson gone home already? I hoped to speak to him some more."

"No, he didn't leave. He's still with the patient. They asked for some privacy, so I left them alone," the nurse explained.

"I see." As she continued on her way with a parting nod to Johnathan, Stella couldn't help but feel a little worried. True, Lieutenant Anderson seemed truly concerned for Connor when they spoke earlier, and appeared to have the android's best interests in mind.

But that didn't mean she could trust him with Connor completely. Especially as there was something nagging at the back of her mind, something she should have checked much sooner.

She tried to respect Connor's privacy as much as possible and only consulted Malik's file regarding Connor's psychological state to the necessary extent. Still, to understand the dangerous flashback episodes that haunted Connor, she had to read at least some of his memories – that is, some of those he was willing to share with his doctor – and she now realized there was something she needed to review, fast.

When she finally reached her office, she opened Connor's file right away. Once again, she tried to look at it as little as possible, which meant skipping the largest part of the file dealing with Connor's time at the Flat Rock camp.

And there it was, a few days before Connor's Awakening, as was now the official term for androids becoming aware of their personhood.

 _Patient claims to have been shot by H. A. on purpose. Keeps reliving the incident in his nightmares._

No details were included, but this was more than enough.

Dr. Rosenblatt's blood had gone cold. H. A. could only mean Hank Anderson. How come she didn't remember this before, when she invited this very man to become Connor's next of kin?

 _Shot on purpose. What have I done?_

True, she did it at the request of Connor himself, but then again, was he really fit to make this decision?

The doctor took a sharp breath when she realized there was a more urgent matter to address. Hank Anderson was now alone with Connor, her vulnerable and unstable patient. This was unacceptable. The need for privacy was one thing, but patients' safety always came first. She stood up and headed towards Connor's room. She couldn't leave him with someone whohad _shot him_ , for Christ's sake. Who knew what else that man was capable of?

…

Those words came back to haunt her just a moment later, when she opened the door to Connor's hospital room to the sight of the man and android cuddling half-naked on the hospital bed, which was definitely too narrow for the two of them, in what could only be described as post-coital bliss.

While the Lieutenant had the grace to look properly chastened as he scrambled around for his clothes, Connor just met her gaze in defiance, daring her to say anything.

Stella didn't, at least not right away. She turned her back to them, waiting for the pair to get decent. At the sound of an awkward cough coming from Hank Anderson a moment later, she turned back.

Mercifully, they were now fully clothed. Connor rested on his bed, still eyeing her rather mutinously, while Hank Anderson was fidgeting on the chair by his bedside, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

"Having sexual intercourse in your condition is not wise, Connor," she addressed her patient, ignoring the Lieutenant completely.

"I read that it is perfectly safe for pregnant human women," Connor argued, but his defiance was slowly giving way to insecurity, even as he added: "Even nearing the end of pregnancy."

"But Connor, you're not a human woman," Dr. Rosenblatt reminded him gently. "We don't really know what's safe in your case. It's better to err on the side of caution, don't you agree?"

Before Connor had the chance to react, however, it was Lieutenant Anderson who spoke up:

"Now hold on a second. What d'ya mean, end of pregnancy? Last I checked, it lasted nine months. Connor's what, six months along? It doesn't add up," he concluded with a frown.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Stella said, acknowledging Hank Anderson with a look over the rim of her spectacles. "All findings suggest that Connor's pregnancy is accelerated in comparison to a regular human one. The fetus has been growing at a much faster rate. By now, she's more or less ready to be born."

Anderson gaped at her.

"Why didn't you-"

Stella held up a hand to stop him.

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but we got interrupted. Anyhow, Connor, you might have read that having sex in late stages of pregnancy might induce labor. While the medical science is still not hundred percent sure about this, in my personal opinion-"

"You said yourself she's ready to be born, so what's the big deal?" Anderson interrupted her rather rudely. The man was still looking uncomfortable but also a bit annoyed with her for pushing the point.

Dr. Rosenblatt was more than a bit annoyed herself about this entire situation, but she also realized she got herself to blame for this. She did not tell Connor that he should refrain from sex. She tried not to read too much of that file, but she did knew he was an abuse victim and she simply presumed this would not become an issue. She shouldn't have presumed.

"As I said," she said, forcing herself to be patient with the two of them, "as Connor's situation is unprecedented, we're flying in the dark here. We just don't _know_ what's safe for him and the baby. That's why, even though that apart from the faster growth rate, the pregnancy actually appears physiological, the birth will be done via scheduled caesarean section."

There was a beat of silence. The man and the android exchanged glances, too quickly for her to decipher the feelings they conveyed.

"When?" Connor asked eventually, and this time she could see a hint of worry in his eyes.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Not a very exciting chapter, I'm afraid. Or long, for that matter. But I needed to get back on my writing horse, so to speak. I hope that if anyone's still following this, you're at least happy this story isn't abandoned._ _I got my PhD, among other things (yes, the piece of trash writing this is now officially a doctor, yahoo) so I'm back to writing and plan on finishing this._


	14. And There She Was

Connor woke up to a sharp pain in his abdomen. He automatically tried to raise his hand to touch himself there, but found out he could only move it a few inches, as all his limbs felt very heavy. Moreover, a sideways glance showed him there were some tubes attached to his hand. Everything around him was drowning in fog, so it took him some concentration to make out that the thing on the inner side of his wrist was a cannula inserted to his vein and the thing attached to his finger was a heart rate monitor.

His head was swimming, as all the colors and shapes around him were blurring together, everything looking strangely out of proportions.

He was obviously drugged.

 _Oh no. What has Andronikov done to me this time?_ Flashed through Connor's mind. His body immediately started to tremble in panic, and the pain in his abdomen increased even more, making him gasp as he got hold of the cannula with the intention of ripping it out. Then memories started to flood into his brain, and his hand on the tube stilled.

This was not Andronikov's doing. Fortunately, he was now out of the abhorrent man's reach. His body sagged in relief, despite the throbbing pain, as he realized that he was now in the CyberLife Tower turned hospital. And he had just given birth.

Or so he thought. He didn't remember anything about it, his last clear memory being lying down on the operating table with sharp white light hurting his eyes.

Connor's panic returned with a vengeance, because this was not what the doctors told him that would happen. He was supposed to get a spinal anesthesia and be mentally present at his daughter's birth. Something must have gone wrong. He probably knew what, but he couldn't quite quell the rising panic until he made sure of it.

He desperately needed to ask someone about Mona. Thankfully, it didn't take long before Dr. Rosenblatt's face swam into view. Upon seeing her, Connor tried to sit more upright, but soon slumped back onto the bed as he found it too painful.

"Easy there," the doctor told him gently with a light pat on his forearm. "You've just had a major surgery, try to avoid making sudden movements. If everything goes well, we'll have you up and walking tomorrow, don't worry."

"But what about my baby," Connor finally managed to ask the question weighing most heavily on his mind.

"She's alright. Your baby is a perfectly healthy girl. I actually came here to give this to you – here's her birth card," Dr. Rosenblatt said, pressing a pink piece of paper into Connor's hand. There was a picture of a little foot, surrounded by flowers and accompanied by several lines of writings. Connor had a hard time focusing on the letters and digits dancing in front of his eyes, but eventually read:

MONA ANDERSON

Time of birth: 11:53 AM, May 2, 2039

Length: 18.5 inches

Weight: 6 pound 10 ounces

He was a little sad there was no picture included, because he couldn't wait to actually _see_ his daughter, but mostly he felt relieved she was alright. The panic he had felt earlier drained him; even though he was dimly aware he wanted to ask the doctor some more questions, it didn't take long before the android slipped into stasis, clutching the pink card close to his heart.

…

For the next few hours, he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. At moments he was aware of medical staff milling about, but they didn't require him to do anything; at most, they asked him whether he was comfortable. There was nothing for him but lie back and rest, waiting for the drugs in his system to run their course. By the time he had become almost completely lucid, if still quite a bit sore, he was visited by Malik, his android physician. Malik told him that the C-section was a success, and that Connor was healing fast.

"Did you put me under general anesthesia?" Connor asked his doctor. "I thought we agreed on a spinal so I could be aware of the proceedings."

"We did agree on that, yes", Malik, a dark-skinned android with greying black hair told him, "against my judgment." The look he was giving Connor was kind but stern, confirming Connor's hypothesis about what happened during his surgery.

"Did I have another… _episode_?" he asked, just to make sure.

Malik nodded.

"You started thrashing around almost immediately after I set out to make the abdominal cut. It was dangerous to both you and the baby, so we had no choice but to resort to general anesthesia."

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Connor said quietly, casting his eyes down. He noticed he was still clutching the pink card with his daughter's birth details, and that it became creased in the middle. He smoothed the creases absentmindedly with his fingers, as he processed what he had just learnt.

Malik had indeed warned him that even though spinal anesthesia with the woman giving birth fully conscious was now the preferred option, it might not be wise in Connor's particular case, as lying down on a table and being operated on could be a trauma trigger for the android.

Connor had argued that he wouldn't be strapped down and the surgery would be done by Malik, another android whom he learned to trust, so he should be able to control himself.

It turned out that he was wrong. _He couldn't hold it together for the mere half an hour required so he could properly meet his daughter for the first time_ , Connor thought despondently, loathing himself for his weakness.

"There's nothing wrong or shameful in suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder," Malik told him, not for the first time, but Connor didn't really hear him. Gloomy thoughts continued to plague him for some time, until he slipped into stasis once more.

…

When he next opened his eyes, he could clearly see the clock on the opposite wall showing half past nine. Given it was light outside, he concluded it was half past nine in the morning.

It seemed that his eyesight now worked perfectly, and the thick fog that had been filling his brain earlier dissipated. He was back to his full capacities. His abdomen still hurt, but it was much more bearable. What hurt far more was the fact that almost a full day had elapsed since his daughter came to this world, and he has yet to see her.

In the few days he spent here after he had somehow recovered from what happened to him at the Flat Rock, he read a lot about giving birth and related matters, to prepare himself as much as possible for what was to come. In an article on Caesarean section, he had read that the custom was to give the baby to the mother immediately after the surgery for something called bonding, only to take him or her away afterwards so that the mother could recuperate. Even during that time, however, the medical staff would bring her the baby regularly for breast-feeding.

Because Connor couldn't control himself on the operating table, he lost the opportunity for bonding with his daughter right after her birth. As for breast-feeding… it was naturally impossible. Even Andronikov's modifications didn't stretch that far as to provide him with functioning breasts. He wanted Connor to become a breeding machine, nothing more.

It seemed that Connor was all but useless to Mona now. He truly had to nothing to offer to her, like he had told Lieutenant Anderson earlier. She was probably being bottle-fed by nurses or by the man who agreed to be her father. No place left for Connor in the equation.

This was evidenced by the fact that no one even thought of showing her to Connor. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he was assaulted by sudden fear that Hank Anderson would simply take Mona away from him. This fear was nothing new, but Connor hoped that the Lieutenant's job would keep him too busy to actually want to become the primary caretaker of an infant. _But what if_ – a truly terrifying thought crossed his mind.

What if Connor's failure to stay in control during the delivery convinced Hank that Connor was far too damaged to be Mona's parent? _He can easily find some actual child-rearing android model to replace me_ , the android thought desperately, withtears freely spilling down his cheeks.

 _What had he gotten himself into, allowing the man to sign the paternity declaration?_ But it wasn't like he had any other choice. Also, he had a hunch about Hank that told him that the man wouldn't do that, despite all the animosity that had existed between them in the past.

He recalled the moment when Hank gently rubbed his back when Connor was suffering from a panic attack, and it made something in his throat feel oddly constricted.

The way his former partner treated him at that moment, it was… _kind_ , was probably the right word. Something Connor had little to no experience with. He knew human cruelty and callousness, had been subjected to greed and selfishness. Kindness he knew nothing about.

Dr. Rosenblatt had been kind, true, but it was part of her job, her duty. Did Hank Anderson perceive Connor as his duty, now when he thought he fathered the android's child?

Connor simply didn't know. He felt he was terribly out of his depth here. He wanted to gather his thoughts and try to analyze his own situation as rationally as possible, but there was no time for that as the door to his room suddenly opened. It revealed Dr. Rosenblatt, who wasn't alone this time. She was accompanied by none other but Hank Anderson, who was pushing a mobile baby crib towards Connor.

 _And there she was._

At that moment, everything else seemed to disappear. The only person he could see was lying in that crib, swaddled in a white blanket. She was all red and squished and her head had a funny shape, not unlike a turnip. To Connor, she was utterly beautiful.

The android's synthetic heart skipped a beat when he finally laid eyes on his daughter. As he tentatively extended one hand to touch the matted dark hair on her little head, the baby girl made a mewling sound but didn't open her eyes.

"Aren't you a little princess," Connor whispered, and felt his eyes starting to tear up again. This time, however, it was with joy. His eyes rose up from the crib to seek out the Lieutenant's face.

The man was watching him with a complicated expression Connor couldn't quite decipher, one that looked like happiness and at the same time – strangely enough – like its exact opposite. Connor didn't know what to say, but was saved the trouble by Dr. Rosenblatt.

"Since you're both here, I show you two how to feed her," the doctor told them matter-of-factly, and procured the necessary supplies.

To Connor's surprise, there was no bottle involved, just a syringe. He asked Dr. Rosenblatt about it.

"We use syringes for newborns, it's easier for them as they can't suck properly yet. Also, they can only ingest very small amounts of milk in the first few days," the doctor explained as she filled the medical instrument with liquid from a small plastic container.

"Why's it yellow? Isn't milk supposed to be, you know, white? Formula, too?" It was Hank who asked this time.

"This is not formula yet," Dr. Rosenblatt explained. "It's called colostrum, or first milk that women produce right after birth. It's rich in nutrients, which is good for babies as they have very little stomachs. Also boost their immunity. We get it from donors."

The reminder of Connor's inability to give this to his daughter himself brought a pang to his heart, but it was soon washed away by the sheer wonder he felt when he saw Mona greedily gulp down the entire contents of the little syringe.

"She's got quite an appetite," Hank commented approvingly. "Can she get more?"

"We might go for ten more milliliters. Here, you try holding her, and Connor can give her the syringe," Dr. Rosenblatt commanded them, and they both obeyed her without protest.

"Don't forget to always support the head," the doctor told Hank as he gingerly arranged his arms to hold the baby, who looked impossibly small in the big man's embrace.

"I know the drill, I've done this before," Hank murmured as he lowered the infant down so that Connor could reach her. These words caught Connor's attention. The Lieutenant lived alone, only with his dog, so the android simply assumed he didn't have any wife or children. But maybe it wasn't the case. Was he actually divorced? Did he have children somewhere?

Now wasn't the time for these questions, however. At the present moment, Connor had to focus on getting the baby to open its mouth with his little finger, like the doctor had shown them, and inserting the top of the syringe between the infant's lips.

He felt a wave of joy when she began sucking anew, this time drinking about three quarters of the milk before falling asleep on the spot, the effort evidently leaving her completely drained.

"When you leave, please bring her to the nurses' room, Mr. Anderson," Dr. Rosenblatt told Hank after he had laid Mona back in her crib. Then she turned to address Connor.

"When you manage to rise from bed without help, you'll be able to keep her in the room with you. I wish you a speedy recovery," Dr. Rosenblatt said with an encouraging smile.

With those words, the doctor left them alone. Connor spent some more minutes greedily drinking in the sight of his daughter's slumbering face, not really minding the sudden silence reigning in the room. Then he noticed there was a paper lying in the basket at the bottom of the mobile crib.

"What is that?" he asked Hank Anderson.

"That's – uhm, Mona's birth certificate," Hank told him, sounding strangely awkward even as he handed Connor the paper in question.

When Connor's eyes skimmed the document, the reason for the man's discomfort soon became clear to him.

 _Mona Anderson_ , it was written in the name column, just like on the pink card. In the column for father, it said _Hank Anderson_. The column for mother read: _Unknown_.

Connor swallowed, suddenly feeling uneasy. He was, of course, glad that Hank chose to accept Mona as his daughter, even though he wasn't sure of his paternity. On the other hand, seeing the man's surname displayed like that while Connor himself was completely removed from the equation felt… _scary_. Like Hank had all the power, and Connor none. And in the eyes of the law, this was indeed the case. If Hank decided he wanted to take Mona and leave, preventing the android from ever seeing her again, there was nothing Connor could do to stop him.

Hank didn't _seem_ to want to do anything like that, true. That's why Connor chose him as his next of kin and agreed to list him as Mona's father. But could he really trust him?

The answer was no, of course. But once again, it wasn't like he had any other options, and there was also his mostly unfounded gut feeling telling him that Hank wouldn't do that, partly based on that gesture of kindness Hank showed him yesterday.

As he replayed the memory in his head, mostly to reassure himself that he could trust Hank in this respect, he vividly recalled something that happened afterwards, something that was the opposite of reassuring.

Himself slapping Hank. _Did I lose my mind?_ Connor thought, suddenly horrified. Whatever approximation of pregnancy hormones forced him to do that, it must simply never happen again, he resolved as he watched Hank gazing adoringly at the sleeping baby. He couldn't risk antagonizing this man like that.

 _The cost was too high._

Connor knew, even before she was born, that he'd do anything for his daughter. From now on, he'd strive to be on his best behavior towards Hank Anderson, no matter what would happen.

* * *

 _A/N: Here I thought I would finally have time for this fic, and the pandemic happened. Being quarantined with two kids under the age of five (with one of them being too young for them to actually play together) while working from home is NOT conducive to writing. But I did so I could. Anyhow…so the baby has arrived, but not all is roses yet. Connor has a lot of baggage to deal with, poor dear. What are your thoughts?_


End file.
